


For The Dauntless

by Caenea



Series: The Dauntless Chronicles [1]
Category: Divergent (Movies), Divergent - All Media Types, Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: Birthday Party, Enemies to Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Eric being Eric, Eric is a moron, F/M, Impertinent Questions, Kissing Lessons, OOC, Public Masturbation, Revenge, Semi-Public Sex, Seven Minutes In Heaven, Sex Education, Sex Shop, Sex Toys, Tris being Tris, Tris loves chocolate, Truth or Dare, Violence, anger issues, kind of anyway, secret meetings, secrets and lies, some canon divergence, tempers flare, unintentional humiliation, unprovoked violence, vengeance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-14 20:24:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 50
Words: 104,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11790801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caenea/pseuds/Caenea
Summary: Tris hates Eric, Eric hates Tris. This is a fact and it is known by everyone who has been privileged enough to witness them interact. But beneath that hatred is Tris’ determination to win Eric’s praise – fight harder, be more brutal, fight dirty, do whatever she has to do to win. She has stood up against his temper as nobody ever has and now he is burning for a crack at the Abnegation-born Dauntless girl. Tris is pushing to invoke a response, he is pushing for the break he is convinced must come sooner or later. The tension in the air is close to burning Dauntless Headquarters to the ground, and somehow it must be resolved. But will resolution come at the blade of knife, the fall into the Chasm – or in a bed?





	1. The Curious Case of Tris and Eric.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my darlings! Welcome to the depravity. Comments and kudos make me happy and I love each and every hit I get!
> 
> The major canon divergence for this (outside the obvious) is Tris' age, as she is nearly 17 in this fic. The story features some incidences of violence some readers may find to be a sensitive issue and therefore this will be clearly flagged at the start of the relevant chapters.

_SEPTEMBER 4 TH – 14TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE ONE_

                “It’s baffling,” I hear Christina say, laughing. “He’s obsessed with her.” I pause; hand on the door to push it open. I want a shower; I’m sweating and almost positive that I’m stinking with it. But the conversation gives me pause and I stop to listen – as I always did at home, because even though curiosity was considered an undesirable trait, I always had to know. And my ears are burning – something, some instinct, tells me that I am the subject of this conversation.

                “ _She’s_ obsessed with _him_ ,” Will’s voice responds, amusement in his own tones. “She’s weird.”

                “She’s a Stiff,” Peter says, and I roll my eyes. “They’re all weird.”

                “Yeah but – this is like death-wish, stir-the-pot crazy weird, instead all selfless, self-sacrificing weird. She’s mad. You guys know she gets up early and goes to the Pit to train before breakfast, right?” I didn’t know Christina knew that.

                “I assumed she was getting up to shower. So frigid.” Peter again.

                “She’s not frigid,” a fourth voice states. I think that’s Edward, but I cannot be sure. “Just modest. To be expected, right?”

                “The mirror thing is a bit freaky,” Will says. “You guys know that Abnegation houses only have one mirror? It’s normally in their hallway and I heard one of them say at school once that they only got to look at their reflection once every three months.”

                “Explains how she can get dressed and do her hair without needing to check it,” Christina responds. “I kind of hated her a little bit for that.”

                “None of this explains what Eric has against her.”

                “I think it’s more a case of what Eric wants to have against her,” Peter says. “Namely, his cock up against her ass.” There’s an outbreak of wild laughter. Excuse me? Cock? Ass? _Eric_?

                “That’s not it,” Christina protests. “He hates her guts; he’s been gunning for her since she got here, even after she jumped first.”

                “Christina, no offence, but you’re a girl,” Peter says. “You don’t see what we see.” Does she not? And what does Peter see?

                “Well then, oh wise master of observance, why don’t you share your wisdom with me?” Christina’s voice is slightly dangerous. I hope she punches him.

                “Look, he’s always there, right? At training?”

                “Yeah but we’re training and he’s one of the leaders –“

                “Yeah, and that’s great, but he’s _always_ there. He never goes to watch the Dauntless born train; he spends every second with us – unless she isn’t there.”

                “Well Four doesn’t go and watch the Dauntless-born either?” Christina is obviously struggling to follow this train of thought. Christina isn’t the only one – I am baffled too.

                “No but he’s specifically assigned to us, isn’t he? Lauren doesn’t come in to us. But Max flits in and out, so does the other one.”

                “Here, he’s got a point,” Will owns, obviously unwillingly. “And he’s always watching her too.”

                “I’m telling you,” Christina insists, sounding irritated now, “there’s no way. He watches all of us.”

                “No, he watches her. You watch at training tomorrow – she’s fighting isn’t she?”

                “Fighting me,” Christina says, sounding rueful. “How am I meant to watch him when she’s pummelling me into the ground? For an Abnegation, the girl has a hell of an arm on her.”

                “Before she pummels you into the ground, though, we’re doing knife work. Seriously, watch him.” I step back, away from the dorm and head back towards the Pit.

 

Abnegation was never my place, but certain of its values have stuck with me. One of them is natural frugality. Our wages are paid onto plastic cards, small and rectangular things that hold a chip. These cards can be scanned and used to pay for things. In the two weeks I have been at Dauntless, I have spent three points – one on the dress Christina had me buy, and two on the ravens Tori tattooed on my shoulder. We are paid five points per day, and therefore I am left with sixty-seven points. I haven’t needed to buy anything, as we are given our training clothes and food for free and really, what else do I need? But perhaps it’s time to let go of that Abnegation mentality of needing things – and let myself want things instead. I go into several of the clothing stores before I find something I like enough to want to try on. It’s almost like an overall, but tighter and with sleeves instead of straps. I take it through to the changing rooms and wriggle out of my clothes and into the overall. It clings. And somehow, it has given me a figure. There is a limit to what it can do with someone as straight up and down as me, but the cut pinches in my waist and flares lightly over my hips. But as I run my hands down my sides, I realise it is not all illusion. The training and the food is already having an effect. I do have some padding over my hips now. The top is cut low, almost to my navel, and breasts are finally in development. That must be the food too. I will never be voluptuous, but perhaps there is hope for some kind of figure to develop. The sleeves are short, and made of a see-through, gauzy material that only serves to disguise the curve of my shoulders, instead of hiding them. The trousers are cropped below my knee. It is an occasion outfit, that’s for sure.

 

And it is entirely unnecessary. It will cost me one point, and the shoes an assistant picks out to go with it will cost another two. I buy the outfit. They pack it into a bag, and I go back to the dormitory. It is empty now, so I am able to hide the outfit deep in my drawer without being asked a thousand questions. Especially since I’m not sure why I brought the outfit, or what I hope to gain from wearing it. As an afterthought, I shrug out of my jacket, leaving just my shirt in place before I go to try and find the others. I find Christina and Will in the dining hall, having supper.

                “Mind if I join you?” I ask. Christina looks up at me.

                “Sure, go ahead,” she says, gesturing. I sit down opposite them and take a plate from the pile on the table, taking a chocolate chip muffin and a slice of bread and butter. Maybe this is where that extra fat is coming from, despite our hectic training schedule – the food is so delicious here. Supper is not a meal that exists in Abnegation, because it is not necessary to eat more than three times in a day. Even though I now expend much more energy than I ever did at Abnegation, I rarely join the others for supper. “Hungry today?” Christina asks, looking at me.

                “Yeah,” I reply. “Worked hard.”

                “Did you seriously never have cake before?” Will asks, watching me break the muffin into small bites in order to savour it. “I mean, I know Abnegation refute all extravagances but somehow I can’t even think that cake is an extravagance.”

                “Yeah, like on your birthday, surely cake is necessary –“ Christina says, frowning.

                “Abnegation don’t celebrate birthdays,” I say, taking another bite of the muffin. They both turn wide eyes of astonishment on me.

                “Excuse me?” I understand Christina not knowing this fact, but Will being surprised surprises me.

                “Surely you knew?” I say to him. “Being Erudite and all.”

                “No, I don’t remember ever being told that,” he says. “So you don’t even get wished a happy birthday? There’s like no acknowledgement of it at all?”

                “The only birthday an Abnegation family acknowledge is the sixteenth and that’s because that’s the year we choose. But no, there’s no celebration or wishing of it. It’s considered a selfish indulgence to celebrate your own birth.”

                “So do you even know when it is?” Christina demands. “Have you ever wanted to celebrate it?” I shrug.

                “Sure I know when it is, and sure, I’ve been curious.”

                “So... when is it?” Will prompts.

                “What’s the date?” I ask in return. “Soon, anyway.”

                “It’s the fourth of September.”

                “Oh, it’s later on than I thought. It’s on the eighth of September.” Christina’s eyes light up.

                “We should celebrate it!” she announces.

                “How?” I ask, blankly, lifting the last bite of muffin to my mouth.

                “Don’t you trouble yourself,” Will says. “I have no doubt Christina can organise everything quite capably. _But,_ ” he says sternly, looking at her, “only if Tris is OK with it.” Christina looks at me with a pleading air.

                “Please Tris? Can I?” I shrug. Having never celebrated it, I hardly know what I’m missing. But I am no longer Abnegation. I am Dauntless now – so why shouldn’t I celebrate?

                “Sure, why not?” She pumps the air in victory.

                “Yes!” she crows, grinning at Will.

                “What’s the excitement?” Al speaks from behind me, before he slides into the seat next to me.

                “Tris’ birthday,” Will explains. “Christina wants to celebrate it, as Tris never has before.”

                “Yes, and it’s gonna be amazing. Al, put the word out – we’ll all meet at six tomorrow, as soon as we’re free. You’ll have to amuse yourself Tris,” she adds. I shrug again.

                “No problem.”

 

I go back to the dormitory before them. When I glance back from the door of the dining hall, the three of them have their heads close together, obviously deep in conversation. I shake my head. I don’t understand the other faction’s obsession with birthdays. After the mirrors, it is their source of greatest confusion about Abnegation. But if it makes them happy, why not celebrate?

 


	2. What Defines Bravery From Stupidity?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric and Tris face off in front of a target and Four vents his fury when the stand-off is over.

_SEPTEMBER 5 TH – 15TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE ONE (MORNING)_

 

The next morning we are training with knives. Four demonstrates – closely watched by Eric. I focus on Four, watching his stance, the sweep of his arm, the way he aims so carefully before the flick of his wrist sends the knife into the target’s heart. While the others immediately begin to throw the knives at the target – missing by miles – I walk slightly away from the group, focussing first on getting to know the weight of the blade, learning the balance and the grip. It is not the Dauntless way, perhaps, but it is my way. I step up to my empty lane. I take the blade between my fingers; I line it up with my free arm outstretched. I throw.

 

It is not the target’s heart, but the target’s stomach. But I am the first to get a blade to stick. People stop, they turn, they watch me throw the second. Left shoulder this time – I am getting closer.

                “Why have you all stopped?” Eric’s cold voice asks. People snap back into action, and soon everyone is hitting the target. Everyone but Al. After yet another knife clatters short of the target, Eric steps up.

                “Go get it,” he says, quietly. Men like Eric do not need to raise their voices for people to know that they are the centre of authority. They do not need to shout. Everyone stops. “I didn’t say stop,” he says, and his smirk is positively sadistic. Uncertain, the others start to throw again, but I do not. I remain very still. I watch Eric carefully. He has not noticed my disobedience yet, but Four has. He’s looking at me. His look tells me to stay where I am, to obey, to turn back to the target and continue to throw the knives in my hands. I ignore the look.

                “Go get it?” Al echoes.

                “Yes.”

                “But – they’re still throwing.” Al is right to be concerned. He’s next to Molly, who is hitting his target more than her own. If he ventures after that knife, he will be hit. It might well be fatal.

                “All stop,” Eric says, and people do. “Go get that knife, then stand in front of that target.”

                “Why?”

                “Because I’m going to throw them at the target, and show you how it’s done. This is Dauntless. We are brave.”

                “Standing in front of a target while you chuck knives at him won’t prove shit,” a voice says, and I realise it is my voice. “Just that you’re a psycho.” Eric turns to me with an air of a predator. He advances on me. He has over a foot of height on me, and I’d guess at twice my breadth. He dwarfs me. I do not blink, I do not look away. “That isn’t a test of his bravery,” I continue. “Just the depths of your depravity.” Four is now gesculating at me wildly, his eyes furious. But it’s a bit late for him to telling me to shut up. I should not have spoken at all. Eric is staring down at me, and his smile is mean.

                “Then you should have no problem taking his place, should you – little girl?” I recognise it as a cheap trick, an attempt to psyche me out. It will not work.

                “Where do you want me, Eric?” I ask. There are indrawn breaths around me, but all I can see is him. We were told to always call him sir.

                “Go to your target, pull out the knives.” I do so, and return.

                “Shall I genuflect to present them to you, or will merely handing them over do?” I ask, cheekily. Christina gasps aloud at that. Eric takes the knives.

                “You hit your target eight times. That is how many knives I will throw. If you flinch, or cry out, you are out of Dauntless,” he intones. “Approach your target.” When I get there, and turn to face him, I see that my friends have drawn together in a tight, fearful knot of silence. Christina’s eyes are wide and horrified. Four is to the other side of Eric, his fury evident. Eric calls him over, hands him seven of the eight blades he will throw at me. I do not take my eyes off Eric. I must not show weakness, I must not show fear, I must not flinch. I take a deep breath. And I wait.

 

I barely see him move to throw the first knife. It whizzes through the air so quickly I don’t see it until it smacks into the target inches from my right elbow. I have to force myself not to look at it. _Look at his eyes. Do not look at Four, or Christina, or the others. Do not look at the knives. Look at his eyes._ I repeat it like a prayer. His eyes are cold, icy. He expects me to fail, to flinch or scream. He probably wants me to, desperately. He has wanted me to fail since I got here, because he doesn’t believe that the girl from Abnegation, with an Abnegation test result, can possibly be Dauntless. _He wants you to fail. This is a test. Disappoint him._ The second knife lands. Left hip. _Do not move._ Third knife, right hip. Fourth knife, left elbow. That one was closer. _He is getting angry now. You are halfway through. Do not move. Look at his eyes._ They aren’t cold anymore, that’s for damn sure. They’re hot with rage. He expected me to fail already, perhaps he expected me to flinch at the first knife. He will push harder now. The closeness of the fourth blade was intentional. He will hit me before the end. Fifth blade, right shoulder. He is framing me. Sixth blade, left shoulder. Flat against the skin. It must have torn my shirt. The whisper of cloth is different, tighter. _Do not look down. Do not look._ Angry does not begin to describe Eric now. He is murderous with rage. The next blade will cut me. It will tear flesh, but I must trust him not to sever a vein or anything vital. Ha. Trust him. Might as well trust a tiger not to bite.

 

The seventh blade nicks my right ear. I don’t know how bad but I can feel the blood hot against my neck. Christina starts forward; she is the first one of them to move, to protest. Will pulls her back, she does not speak. If she does, Eric will repeat this exercise with her in my place. Four’s hands are empty now. The eighth and final blade is in Eric’s hands. I am certain he will throw it to the top of my head, complete the frame he has made of my body. I dare not look away. I could not flinch now if I wanted to, my muscles have turned to steel and I am frozen in place as the blood from my torn ear drips onto the shoulder of my shirt. I maintain my stare at Eric. He lifts the knife. He takes a careful aim and it might be my imagination but I think that he’s aiming too low to be completing the frame. _He’s actually going to kill you. Do not move. Do not give him that satisfaction._ He throws it. It is not on the top of my head.

 

It’s between my slightly parted thighs. Vertical blade, barely an inch below my crotch, not a centimetre on either side. If he’d have missed, he’d have severed an artery.

                “That’s eight,” Eric spits. I look down at the handle of the blade between my legs, and put my right hand to it. I yank it out of the target and hold it up.

                “Good shot,” I say coolly, looking at him. My voice does not shake. I throw it to the ground. One by one, I remove the knives, dropping them at my feet. The last is the blade that tore my ear. The left sleeve of my top is severed, it gapes open as I pull the blade away. The right shoulder is stained with blood, glistening against the black cotton. That is the knife I take back to Eric, offering it to him blade first. I haven’t raised a hand to the ear yet, I do nothing. He is livid, face red with anger, neck tight with tension. “Shall I keep practising?” I ask. He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t take the knife.

 

He drops his gaze and marches out, fists clenching. I saw the rage in his eyes. He wanted to wrap his hands around my throat and choke me. But he did not, and yet I still emerge the victor. Four is the first to speak.

                “You,” he snarls. “You come with me. The rest of you, carry on.” He puts a heavy hand on my non-bloodied shoulder and steers me out, marching me into the small training room bathroom. He snatches up a pile of paper towels and dampens them at the sink. He practically throws them at me. “Hold those on your ear. I’m going to get the first aid kit.” I do as he says, hissing in pain as they touch the wound. I go over to the mirror, and take a deep breath.

 

It has torn the top of my ear, cutting through the delicate curl of cartilage and splitting it nearly in half. There’s plenty of blood. A few wisps of hair have been shorn short, and there is a graze against my scalp. An inch closer and they’d have been pulling the blade out of my eye. Four comes back with the first aid kit and snorts.

                “Admiring yourself?” he asks, voice shaking.

                “Eric’s handiwork,” I reply. “One has to admire his steady hand.”

                “What the fuck is wrong with you, Tris?” he asks, voice quiet. He swabs the tear in my ear with a liquid that stings and burns.

                “He’s a bastard. I wasn’t going to let him put Al in danger just to prove a ridiculous point.”

                “Al should be fighting his own battles.”

                “Al can’t fight his own battles.” He’s sticking my ear back together with little white plasters. I can see him in the mirror. His brow is furrowed in concentration.

                “That’s the best I can do for now. You’ll have to go to Medical tonight, after afternoon training.”

                “Sure,” I reply. “Can I shoot back to the dorm to change my shirt?” He nods, lips compressed. The blood is drying hard and sticky against my skin, and I turn on the hot water tap. I wipe it away, watching it swirl down the drain as a scarlet stream.

                “Better run, Stiff,” he says, opening the door. “Or you’ll miss your lunch break.” I jog through the corridors and whispers follow me. The others have clearly spread the story. Many of the faces are awed, some disbelieving. But my fellow transfers are astounded.

 

When I swing open the door, Christina is there at once, running towards me.

                “Tris!” The others are alerted by her cry, standing up from the beds where they have gathered in tense silence. “Are you okay?” she asks, tilting my face to the side to examine my ear.

                “Fine,” I say, walking over to my bed. I pull a shirt out of the drawer beneath the mattress and straighten up. Al is ghost white. “Hey,” I say. I walk over to sit beside him. “Hey. I’m fine, OK? All fixed up.”

                “You shouldn’t have done it,” he says. “I shouldn’t have let you.”

                “If you’d started arguing, all that would have been gained is that he would have thrown knives at both of us. Or had Molly do it.” The others laugh but Molly glares. She doesn’t like it when attention is drawn to her shortcomings. “It’s done now, anyway,” I say, standing up. I slip behind Christina who obligingly holds up the towel she’s already holding so I’m shielded from the gaze of the others. I strip out of the bloodied shirt and pull the fresh one over my head, careful to avoid my damaged ear. I emerge and toss the soiled shirt into the laundry basket. The stain will wash out – the Dauntless are exceptional at getting bloodstains out of clothing. “Have you guys eaten?”

                “We thought we should wait for you –“

                “Well then we should all go or we’ll miss it completely.” The boys fall into this idea at once, but Christina takes my arm to slow me down. “What’s up?” I ask.

                “Eric’s really angry,” she says, eyes darting around as we go up the corridor.

                “I figured that.”

                “No, you don’t understand. When we all left the Pit, he was standing by the Chasm and his knuckles were bleeding. He’d been punching the wall; Max was with him telling him to get a grip. He looked at us when we all went by and I went cold to the bone. He was talking about this afternoon. I think he’s going to change who you fight.”

                “If he does, there isn’t much we can do,” I point out.

                “If it is me, I’ll go easy –“

                “No,” I say, fiercely. “You absolutely cannot. And you can’t avoid my ear, either. If you fight me, you have to fight exactly as you’d fight anyone else. He would know if you were going easy and he’d toss me into the ring with Peter or Molly. Possibly both of them.”

                “Fuck, Tris, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

                “You have to. And about tonight, when you meet the others? I gotta take my mangled ear to Medical, so I’ll be out of your way.” The ploy works enough to stop her talking about it, but she doesn’t stop stealing worried glances. For my own part, I look around for Eric. Either he ate earlier or he is avoiding the dining area.

 

After a very hurried lunch, we go back to the training room. Eric is there, his knuckles bruised and torn, just as Christina said. I feel a fierce thrill to know I got to him. As the board still says Tris – Christina, I cannot resist taking a dig.

                “The path by the Chasm must be narrower than I thought,” I say, looking up at him. “You ought to be more careful – sir.” He grinds his teeth.

                “Get in the ring,” he spits. “Christina. You and Tris. No yield. This fight will end only when one of you is unconscious. No breaks.”

 

I square up to my best friend, and pray she has the sense to recognise this for the test that it is.


	3. The Conundrum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christina and Tris are forced to fight, and Eric makes several stupid mistakes

_SEPTEMBER 5 TH – 15TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE ONE (AFTERNOON)_

                               

Four is absent this afternoon. Eric alone watches Christina and I circle each other, fists up. She lunges for my left side, I block and land a blow on her shoulder. It’s too clumsy and too soft to do anything, and she feints, aiming right then at the last second going left. The blow lands against my ribs but it is too feeble to hurt or knock me off my stride. I kick, hitting her in the stomach. She staggers back, but recovers quickly and approaches me. Christina and I are both fast but she has the advantage of height and weight on me. Her arms and legs are naturally longer. She intercepts my next punch, hanging onto my right hand. I know what she will do, and I want to tell her it’s OK.

 

She punches square against my ear. The pain is like nothing I have felt before; it tears through my head like a bullet. There is a strange ringing sound, my eyes are watering. This hurts a lot more than the knife did. I use the distraction, the moment where she punches to hook out her legs, but she rolls and turns it back on me. The blow to my damaged ear and the accompanying pain has made me dizzy and I stumble, falling backwards. She straddles me at once, but I grab her shoulders, digging my thumbs into the hollows made by bone and muscle. She cries out, I get a hand free to punch her in the jaw. She flies sideways, lands badly, and now I hold the advantage. I use my knee to wind her, and then slam my fist into her nose. I feel it break under my knuckles. She screams, but manages to get a hand out to smack my ear again with an open palm. The room swings horribly, the ringing intensifying. Eric is smirking. I cannot lose this fight. I need the points.

 

I scramble to my feet, but as she attempts to get up, I grab her head in my hands and slam her face into my knee. The light dies in her eyes. She slumps to the ground, she is unconscious. I have won. I am panting, swaying on my feet. I raise a hand to my ear. They’re still ringing, my vision is blurry. When I pull my hand away, blood is on my fingers. The little white plasters have been useless.

                “Tris is victor,” I hear Eric say. I grin inanely – and then trip over my own feet. The darkness has claimed me before I hit the ground.

 

I wake up in Medical. Will is sitting beside me.

                “You look appalling, Stiff,” he says.

                “Thank you. Where’s Christina?” I ask, hauling myself into a sitting position to swing my legs over the side of the bed. The room is not spinning and the horrendous ringing noise is gone. I touch my ear gingerly, but it is numb and I can feel something oddly lumpy.

                “They stitched it up. She’s fine. Came round about two minutes after you decided to give the ring a horizontal hug.”

                “Is she mad at me?”

                “Between you and me,” he says, leaning forward to whisper, “she’s relieved you ended it so quickly.”

                “What time is it?” I ask.

                “Eight,” he replies. “I came by to check on you after we finished talking about your birthday.”

                “What did you decide?”

                “Now where would be the fun in telling you? You wanna come back to the dorm?”

                “Yeah.” He goes off to find the doctor, who discharges me with a tube of topical local anaesthetic that is a combination steroid cream to help the healing. The stitches will dissolve on their own in about a week. If I notice signs of infection, I should report to Medical immediately. Will walks me home.

                “The doctor tore Eric one when he brought you in,” he says quietly.

                “Sorry, Will, I think my hearing must still be on the blink. Did you just say Eric took me?” I ask.

                “Yeah. You went down with a real bang, right on your face – you’re pretty bruised. He yelled for Four, and then picked you up as Four came running in. Eric carried you out and Four told me to go too, to ask the doctor if you’d be coming back. Eric must have run because when I got out the training room he was nowhere to be seen. By the time I got to Medical the doctor was yelling at him for not sending you in for the ear thing.” I snort.

                “Bet he loved that.”

                “It was pretty weird, actually. He just kind of stood there and took it while the nurse was cleaning your ear. Then he walked out. Don’t think he even saw me. I asked the doctor, like Four told me, and he said you weren’t going back even if you did come round. I went back to training and Eric wasn’t there. I told Four what the doctor said and he didn’t say anything, just told me to get on.” I muse on this. Eric carried me to Medical.

 

We’ve all been knocked out. Christina was knocked senseless by Peter once, ended up roaming the training room having nice chats with the punching bags. All he did was laugh and tell Will to take her. Never has he personally taken someone to Medical, let alone carried them there. Before I can think about it enough, we’re back in the dorm. Christina is there, both eyes impressively black. I go over to her at once.

                “God, I am sorry,” I say, touching her face gently. She is surprised at the gesture and she isn’t the only one. We do not touch in Abnegation, not without asking first.

                “Don’t be stupid,” she says. She strokes a point on my jaw with a touch so light I know it must be bruised. “I hated every second of that fight. If you hadn’t knocked me out I would have faked it to end it. They told me you took a pretty impressive nosedive.”

                “You fucked up my ear pretty good,” I say, touching it. “Must have been one punch too many.”

                “Will told me about Eric taking you to Medical.”

                “Yeah, he’s just been telling me too. Bonkers.”

                “You must be pretty special, Stiff,” Peter says, sarcasm positively dripping. “Either that or you’ve been fucking him pretty good on the sly.” I hate the blush I feel heating my cheeks.

                “Well, fucking him hasn’t been helping you so why would I bother?”  I snap back. Silence reigns before Will shouts a laugh.

                “You just got slammed down by a fucking Stiff, Peter.” Peter’s face goes an ugly red and he storms out, closely followed by Drew and Molly, all of them shooting me filthy looks.

                “Come sit with me,” Christina says, patting her bunk. “So I can give you a big hug so you know I’m not mad at you for ruining my face.”

                “I couldn’t ruin that face,” I say, flopping down. She slips an arm around my shoulders and gives me a squeeze. I’m surprised by how easily the contact comes to me. She lets go pretty quickly at least.

                “Why thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

                “How you feeling, Tris?” Al asks, looking at us.

                “Fine, just pretty tired out. Need to get me some sleep.”

                “You want to come to supper?” Will asks.

                “No, God no. I think I’ll just stay here and crash.”

                “You want me to stay with you?” Christina asks. I glance round. Peter and his cronies are still gone.

                “No, don’t be stupid. I’ll be fine. I’m just gonna shower and sleep.”

                “We’ll come straight back,” she promises, getting up. The boys are pulling on jackets and she shrugs into her jumper. I pull out my towels and head for the showers.

 

The water is streaked with red as I wash the blood out of my hair. There’s a giant sticky clump of it that I have to shampoo three times, working with my fingertips to massage away the blood. When it stops dripping red water, I shampoo the whole lot again, soap down and get out. I’m gentle with drying my hair and ear, afraid of ripping open the stitches. I’m careful not to look in the mirror until I’m dressed as far as tank top and the ridiculously tiny shorts they issued us.

 

There’s a sunburst of angry purple on my chin that is creeping up the right side of my jaw. My ear is black from tip to lobe and when I look down at my hands I see the tears in the knuckle. I sigh and turn to the bench where I dumped my clean pyjama pants before jumping in the shower. They’re gone. So is the shirt I put there, and the spare towel I brought. I have already thrown the wet one down the laundry chute. I curse. Peter or Molly or Drew must have come back while I was in the shower and taken them as a joke. It’s only because I took the shorts and tank into the shower cubicle that they aren’t gone too. I hurry out of the bathroom area, aiming to cross the room and get to my drawers but before I can make it the whole way, there’s a brief, cursory knock before the door swings open. Eric walks in and I instinctively try to cover my chest with my arms.

                “Chill out Stiff,” he says, advancing casually to lean against my bunk. “You’ve got nothing there that I haven’t seen before.” That doesn’t make me feel any better, which probably accounts for what I do next.

                “Have you never heard of knocking and waiting? Or at least asking if people are decent?” I spit the words out, furious that he should come here uninvited and then downplay my discomfort with a stupid cheap shot.

                “You don’t talk to me that way, Initiate!” he snaps, glaring.

                “You don’t barge in here when people are in their fucking underwear then!” I snap back.

                “Do you understand the concept of not keeping secrets from your fellow faction members?”

                “My underwear isn’t a secret and this isn’t Candor,” I fire back. “You going to get the fuck out so I can get dressed?”

                “I’m not stopping you from getting dressed.”

                “This is a private – I’m not – I can’t!” I can’t tell him that with him standing next to my bunk I dare not walk over there, that I am terrified he would touch me and feel me shaking.

                “This isn’t Abnegation!”

                “Don’t you think I know that?”

                “Where are you, Initiate?” he barks. “Where are you?”

                “Dauntless,” I shout back.

                “Are the Dauntless afraid of things?” he asks.

                “Yes, but they confront their fears.”

                “So confront your fear!” he shouts. “Own your fear!” In the middle of all this, the door bangs open and Christina, Will and Al appear. Their laughter is dying on their faces, Christina looks horrified. She starts towards me but Eric turns and shoves her backwards so hard she staggers into Will. It’s only him grabbing her that stops her falling on her ass. So now four people are looking at me in my underwear when not even my mother has – not since I turned ten anyway. If only I’d brought my towels from the bathroom. Christina tugs on Will’s arm, and Al’s, and forces them to turn their backs and I am grateful for their tact and their attempt to help me bear this a little easier.

                “This has nothing to do with fear!” I scream at him. “Fear and humiliation are not the same thing! I’m not afraid of people seeing me like this; I just don’t fucking like it unless I choose it!” The metal piercings in his eyebrows wink in the light as he glares at me.

                “You think this is humiliating?” he asks me, quietly.

                “I know this is humiliating. Abnegation considers that our bodies are private things, to be kept private except from your husband or wife. So yes, I consider this to be pretty fucking humiliating. So I don’t know if this gets you off or if it gives you some kind of sick thrill, but all its doing for me is embarrassing me.”

                “This isn’t Abnegation,” he repeats, but it’s strange because he doesn’t seem as angry.

                “No, it is not. And I understand that I am no longer Abnegation, but I was once and this is humiliating for me no matter how you spin it. Now get the fuck out of this room, or take a fucking picture so you can go treasure the memory of how much you fucking violated me by staying in this room when I asked you to go.” Tears are starting to prick in my eyes but I do not want to cry in front of him.

 

And he goes. Just like that he goes. Christina snatches the blanket from the first bed – Will’s – and dashes over to me. She wraps it round me tightly, shielding me completely.

                “Tris, where are your clothes?” she asks, so gently. I drop my head forward and clutch the blanket. There are tears painting my cheeks now.

                “I – I took some into the bathroom but they were gone when I got out the shower,” I whisper. “They took the spare towel too and I’d already dumped the wet one.”

                “Come on, come to your bunk, I’ll get you some others,” she says, coaxing me gently. “You two get out,” she snaps at Will and Al, who at least are still facing the wall. “If any of the others come back, keep them outside until I say.” They both go at once. I’m weeping like a waterspout before Al gets the door fully shut. “Shh, Tris. It’s OK now. Which drawer do you keep pyjamas and t-shirts in?”

                “The left,” I mumble. She pulls the drawer open, and extracts what I need. She hovers.

                “I can stand here and hold a blanket up, or I can go outside and wait.” If she goes outside I will not be able to raise my voice enough to call her back and I will not be able to walk over to the door to tell her.

                “Just – just turn around, OK?” She nods and turns her back. I get into my clothes as fast as my fumbling fingers allow and then dive into bed, abandoning Will’s blanket on the floor. I pull the blankets up to my shoulders and hide my face in my pillows. Christina sits down and puts a tentative hand on my head. I remain absolutely still. She sighs.

                “Can the others come back in?” I can’t speak. My teeth are gritted so tight my jaw has seized up. “Just nod, if you can’t speak.” I nod. She strokes my hair once, then gets up. I don’t know what she says, but nobody comes back in.

 

Unaccustomed to such peace, I am asleep faster than I thought possible. They do not come back while I am awake.


	4. To Make Amends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four counsels Tris and Eric seeks to make amends for his errors.

_SEPTEMBER 6 TH – 16TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE ONE (MORNING)_

 

The next morning they’re all back. I have woken early as usual, a glance at my watch telling me that actually it is much earlier than normal and it is barely five o’clock. I dress in the bathroom and sneak out without waking the others.

 

Today I do not go to the gym or the training room. Instead I climb the paths of the Pit. Dauntless is silent in a way I have never encountered it before. I haven’t even seen a guard. I find staircase after staircase. I want to climb higher than I ever have before. I want to get as high as I can. I want to find my way to the roof.

 

It’s raining. I’m at the top of the stairs, and the noise slamming against the roof is almost deafening. In front of me is a metal door with a push bar. It seems a shame to get all the way up here and not go out, even if it is raining heavily by the sounds of it. I heave a sigh, but push the bar anyway, blinking in the sudden light. The rain is a sheet of silver. The roof is black with the wet, puddles everywhere. I splash through them, immediately soaking, my hair sticking to my jacket and face. There is a waist high bar running atop the brick lip of the roof, and I lean on it. I can see the whole city. The edges are obscured by the rain, lights shining through here and there. The city is waking up, despite the hour. Half past five. Training doesn’t start for another two and half hours.

 

I stay on the roof. The rain eases quickly; too heavy to endure for any length of time and by six the storm has ended. The sunrise is stunning. It creeps over the eastern sky, pinks and oranges deepening to yellow. The day will be warm. Suddenly, my peace is shattered by the door banging open behind me. I turn, startled. Four is looking at me.

                “Initiate. Would you care to explain what you’re doing?” I didn’t see any signs telling me to keep out or that entry was not allowed through any of the doors I came through.

                “I wanted some air.”

                “You couldn’t have just used the front door?”

                “We aren’t allowed to leave Dauntless,” I remind him. “I figured the roof still counted as Dauntless territory. They used to say at school that no matter who the building belonged to, the roof of the city belonged to the Dauntless.” He huffs a laugh.

                “Not strictly true, but reasonable to assume I suppose. Have you been standing in the rain, Tris?”

                “Yeah. It stopped pretty soon after I came up. I wanted to see the sun rise. You can’t see it in Abnegation. It’s too low, too far into the city.” He nods, as if he understands. He joins me at the rail.

                “A little bird told me it’s your birthday in a couple of days.” I snort.

                “Is this little bird about five foot four and does it currently have two black eyes?”

                “Yes it does,” he says.

                “How did you know I was up here, anyway?” I ask, because it can’t be coincidence and I don’t believe for a second he had no idea.

                “The doors are all wired to security. I was watching the cameras. I came up to check you weren’t planning on jumping.”

                “Never crossed my mind. If I was planning on offing myself, there’s quicker ways to do it right in my locker.”

                “I’ll bear that in mind. You OK today? That was an impressive face-plant yesterday, even by transfer initiate standards.” I shrug.

                “Bit stiff, but it’ll heal. And they say my ear should heal up. Might look a bit strange but it’ll heal.”

                “I heard from Will that the doctors weren’t too happy that you fought.”

                “He said something about it.”

                “You could have said if you didn’t feel up for it.”

                “I did feel up for it, until Eric threw me in the ring and Christina punched it,” I respond. I look at him. “I’m at the bottom of the rankings, Four. If I don’t make the grade, I’m Factionless. I’m not going to let that happen. I’m in Dauntless. I intend to stay in Dauntless. How many points would Eric have docked me if I’d put up my hand and said ‘Please sir, the ear you threw a knife through is a bit sore. May I go to the nurse?’ It was never an option.”

                “About as many as you gained by letting him throw knives at you.” He’s silent. “You take some stupid fucking risks, Tris. There’s bravery and then there’s base stupidity. Don’t mix up one for the other. I don’t know what game you think you’re playing with Eric but you won’t win it.”

                “I’m not playing games with him, Four. If I have a game, it’s to stay here.” He remains quiet.

                “Look, Tris –“

                “This has been a lovely chat,” I announce, pushing myself off the railing and turning to face him. “But I’m going to go and have some breakfast. Got to keep the energy up for training.” I know from the silence that he doesn’t follow me. I can only hope to God he hasn’t heard about the incident in the dorm.

 

It takes every last ounce of my courage to walk into breakfast with my head held high and with a spring in my step. But nobody says a damn word to me; nobody speaks about what happened with Eric. Perhaps Christina got hold of Will and Al and swore them to secrecy. Perhaps Peter and his band do not know what I had to go through as a result of their petty trick. I wonder what they were hoping for when they hid my clothes. Perhaps they just wanted me to have to hide in the bathroom and wait for Christina to get back so I could call out and have to admit that they’d left me – as far as they knew – naked in there. Christina presses a muffin on me. Double chocolate. You have to be up at dawn to get these.

                “I woke up early,” she murmurs. “I figured today, you deserved this.” I manage a smile. I take a knife from the tray on the table and divide it into quarters and pass one to her, one to Will and one to Al. We share the muffin in silence and I realise that one good thing came of yesterday – the four of us are solid now. We will have each other’s backs no matter what else Dauntless training might have in store. In six days, they will announce the rankings for the end of Stage One. We’ll be ranked with the Dauntless-born and the lowest four initiates will be done. They will be Factionless.

 

Eric is in the training room. I don’t break stride with Christina, who glares at his back when we pass.

                “Vicious, sadistic asshole,” she hisses and I feel a little better to know she hates him too. I don’t know if she hates him for last night, or if she just hates him in general. Either way, it makes me feel better.

                “Gather in, initiates!” Four shouts, already looking irritable. “Today is a half day; we have leadership meetings this afternoon. This means you just have to make it until lunch.” I sneak a look at Eric. He’s staring at the ceiling. “I’ll take each of you for a half hour of one-on-one, and Eric will call you out individually too.” I slide my eyes to Christina. Under the pretence of fidgeting, she steps a half-step towards me. “You can choose your activity. You can practise sparring, knives or just get some practise in with the gym equipment.” People break up. I’m heading for my locker, to find my tape so I can tape my hands up before I start pummelling a bag I can imagine as Eric. “Not you, Stiff!” Four barks. I freeze in place. “You’re with me for the first half hour.” Resigned, I turn back. “Come with me. We’re going to do an endurance run.”

 

He bellows at me from the side of the room.

                “Faster, Tris! Come on, this is pathetic!” I grit my teeth and keep running. I lost track after the twentieth lap. I sprint round twice and then he calls out again. “Stop, initiate.” I slow into a jog then come to a halt in front of him. I’m dripping with sweat and my thighs are on fire. “Sit ups,” he orders. I hate sit ups. He kneels down in front of me and holds my feet. The first time someone tried this I nearly kicked them in the face from sheer shock.

                “Fuck sit ups!” I groan.

                “Your core is soft,” he retorts. “You have to start strengthening it. Your upper body and your legs are good but your core is letting you down and costing you half your power in the ring.”

                “How many have I got to do?” He consults his watch.

                “We’ve got ten minutes left, so as many as you can do in ten minutes.” Oh dear God, this is going to kill me.

 

It doesn’t kill me, but he has to help me up afterwards.

                “Take one easy jog round the room, Tris. Do not push it. Gently.” I set off at a nice peaceful pace and then report back. “You’re done. Warm down before you join in another activity. Peter!” Four bellows over the noise in the training room. I go over to the locker bank to work through the stretches they showed up on the first day. I down half a bottle of water without pausing for breath. I need something fairly easy. There’s nobody throwing knives and so I take my case of blades out of my locker, spinning the lock after me and wander over. I line up at the farthest target from the others, and start throwing.

 

Blade after blade sticks into the target. The target has Eric’s face. I collect, throw, collect, throw, collect, throw. I hate him. Blade between the eyes. I hate him. Blade to the heart. I hate him. Blade to the throat.

                “Stiff!” I grit my teeth. Eric is approaching. I put the last remaining knife in the stomach and turn to look at him. “Collect the blades.” I do so, and walk back to him, deliberately taking my time. “Put them away and follow me, I’m taking you somewhere.”

                “I’m not going anywhere with you,” I spit.

                “I wasn’t asking you a question, Stiff. Put your weapons away and follow me if you want to stay until the end of Stage One.” I grind my teeth. I do it with an attitude, but what choice do I have? When I turn, Eric is talking to Four, who has taken a break from bellowing at Drew who’s being forced through pull-up drill. I stomp over to them and clear my throat loudly. Eric looks livid already.

                “Looks like this is your lucky day, Tris,” Four says quietly. “Eric has informed me that when he’s done your one-on-one session, he’ll let you go straight for lunch.” I snort.

                “Sure. Assuming I can still walk.”

                “Drop this attitude, initiate,” Eric growls.

                “Or what?”

                “Tris!” Four snaps. “I suggest that when Eric is done with you, you do some serious damn thinking about your future in this faction.”

                “Yes, sir,” I grind out. “Well, are you ready?” I demand of Eric. He’s boiling mad. I wonder if anyone would stop him if he pummelled me into the ground. He clamps a hand onto my shoulder and marches us out of the training room and down a corridor leading away from the Pit. It’s not a corridor I know, as this is opposite the entrances to the Initiates Dorms and doesn’t lead to any shops or to the dining hall. On the plus side, it doesn’t lead to the Chasm either. We stop after a few turns, in a dark dead end passage. He turns so suddenly I can’t move fast enough to block him when he seizes my shirt and slams me against the nearest wall. I gasp, the impact juddering my bones and knocking the breath from me. He towers over me, solid muscle and obviously attempting to use size as an intimidation tool.

                “Initiate,” he snarls, “I don’t know where the fuck you think you get off, but this fucking attitude needs to change.”

                “Fuck you,” I choke, staring up at him with rage clouding my eyes.

                “You need to get some fucking respect.”

                “I show you the exact amount of respect you deserve.”

                “You are one more smart remark away from getting yourself hurt, Stiff.”

                “Oh, sure, just deal with it by punching me a few times. Need me to draw you a map of the bruises or will you be alright finding them on your own?” Eric’s hands flex in my shirt, before he lets go abruptly and steps back. He gestures.

                “Go in there,” he grinds. I look round.

                “Go in where?” I ask, baffled. There doesn’t seem to be a door. He sighs and reaches round me. The door is disguised to look like just another wall. It slides open when he presses something or touches something. I step through the door and look around. “Where are we?” The room has a table with two chairs, a sofa, a bookcase and another door opposite this one. There are no windows. The lights have either come on with the opening of the door or they were left on.

                “My flat. Sit.” He gestures at the sofa. I sit. “You should feel privileged, Stiff. Not even the other Dauntless leaders have been allowed in here.”

                “Then what am I doing here?” I ask, bemused. His mood swings are giving me whiplash.

                “I wanted to – discuss last night’s incident.”

                “I don’t want to discuss it,” I say, standing straight back up. “I would rather just forget it.”

                “Sit back down, Initiate,” he says, sighing. “Your hang-ups about your body are a weakness. You must confront that.”

                “I don’t need to, because nobody sees my body. End of discussion.” I stride towards the door.

                “Tris, there are more ways a man can hurt you than with a gun or a blade,” he replies. The use of my first name and the lack of any antagonism brings me up short, and I pause with my hand outstretched to the handle. “You need to sit back down. As much as you might not believe it, I am not trying to do anything here but help you. I figured you would be more comfortable having this conversation in private.”

                “I don’t think there could be any setting for this conversation that could possibly be comfortable,” I mutter, but there’s nothing rude about the comment and perhaps he hears that.

                “Please, Tris,” he says, indicating the sofa. “Sit back down.”

 

It takes a hell of a lot of balls to do it, but I perch myself on the very edge of the sofa to listen to him.

 


	5. Potentially Fatal Embarrassment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric holds a supremely awkward conversation with an uncomfortable Tris. Tris confides in Christina during a tattoo session.

_SEPTEMBER 6 TH \- 16TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE ONE (AFTERNOON)_

 

It’s worse than awful. I’m wound so tight I feel like I might break something.

                “Tris, try and relax.” His voice is gentle, like he’s trying to soothe a beast that might attack at any moment. He opens a cabinet, pours something from a bottle into two glasses and hands one to me. “These conversations are sometimes easier with something to hold and sip.”

                “What is it?” I ask.

                “It’s whiskey. Sip it slowly.” Oh God it burns. But he’s right; the tongue of flame it licks down my throat and into my stomach does help something unwind. “Dauntless has only ever had one other Abnegation transfer before,” he says, sitting down in an armchair – thank God there’s the distance. “I looked it up – you are only the second. And I don’t think anyone really knew what that meant. The Abnegation mentality is modesty, selflessness and privacy. This translates into coming over as being rather uptight.”

                “I’m not uptight. I just don’t choose to exhibit myself to all and sundry.”

                “Tris. A woman’s body – anyone’s body – is not something to be ashamed of.”

                “I’m not ashamed of my body, Eric. Look, can I try and explain to you what my problem was last night?”

                “Please do.”

                “I was brought up Abnegation. And people can say faction before blood all they want, but when you transfer factions you don’t just forget everything you were raised as, and raised to believe. Look at Christina – she was Candor. She still tells the absolute truth, even when you wish she wouldn’t. And I was Abnegation. Our bodies are private things, because to expose our body is to draw attention to ourselves and that isn’t the point of Abnegation. We consider that the only person who needs to see us without clothes on is our husband, because he is the only one who has to. Even my mother hasn’t seen me undressed since I was a child. You barged in on me when someone had made off with my clothes and towels and left me feeling pretty fucking vulnerable as it was. Then you appeared, refused to leave or even turn your back and started shouting at me. You looked at me and I was humiliated. You wouldn’t let Christina help me. You left me standing there until I was nearly in tears, and as far as I could see it was because you thought I was afraid.”

                “I – believed that was the problem.”

                “It doesn’t frighten me. You do not frighten me and last night was no exception. I found it to be embarrassing. You said I was afraid but there’s a difference between fear and humiliation. You can be afraid of humiliation, you can fear losing but you don’t have to be afraid to be humiliated. You were – looking at me.”

                “And nobody ever has.”

                “No. Nobody ever has.”

                “Tris, you said someone had made off with your things. Why?”

                “Because they know I won’t let them see me undressed. They probably thought nicking my clothes would mean I’d have to wait in the showers until Christina came back when I would have to yell out for her to bring me clothes. It’s only because I always take a tank top and shorts into the shower, along with a towel, that they didn’t get the satisfaction.”

                “Tris, this is what I mean,” he says, leaning forward. “The others have already noticed and are attempting to use it to intentionally humiliate you. Your modesty is becoming your weakness.”

                “I – I’m trying. I can’t change overnight.”

                “No, you can’t.  But you have to confront this. You say it isn’t a fear. And perhaps, in the moment, you weren’t afraid. But does it frighten you to think of it?” I stare at my knees. Does it frighten me? Am I frightened of Eric – because that’s the real question, surely. “Tris?”

                “I’m not afraid,” I say slowly.

                “You won’t lose points –“

                “No, that’s not it. I don’t think it’s fear. It doesn’t feel like fear. And if I think about it happening again, that doesn’t make me frightened.”

                “Tris, I’m going to ask you a personal question.”

                “OK.”

                “Do Abnegation give their children a talk about – what husbands and wives do?” I feel the blush sweep down my neck.

                “Fucking hell,” I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly. “I know what happens, OK? God. And when you said – I know what men can do to women, to hurt them. And what you did hurt me. I felt violated.”

                “And I’m sorry for that.” My head snaps up. He’s looking directly at me.

                “Beg pardon?”

                “I said I’m sorry for it. I should have considered who you were and where you came from.”

                “That sounds awfully like you’re considering making allowances.” He huffs out a strange little laugh, and I am confused by the sound, baffled by the sight of Eric smiling.

                “Never that, Stiff. In the same way you say there is a distinction between fear and humiliation, I make the distinction between making allowances and being kind.”

                “Kind,” I echo. “You’re saying you could have been kind.”

                “Yes. I could have noticed that you were upset, and I did not – or I did, but I didn’t interpret it correctly. Listen to me. It isn’t a fear, but it is a weakness. The others have already begun to exploit it. You must overcome it.” I down the rest of the whiskey. It gives me some kind of courage.

                “How? Do you suggest perhaps that I strip naked in the dining hall and shout ‘Look at me!’ at everyone?” He smirks.

                “No, you probably don’t need to go quite that far. Instead, let me tell you this – from what I saw, you have absolutely nothing to be either ashamed of, or to hide. You look good, Initiate. So maybe, use some of those points you’re earning to buy some clothes or whatever. Things that fit, things that flatter. Something you want.” He finishes his own whiskey and waves the empty glass at the door. “You can go and get your lunch. The others will be finishing up in about fifteen minutes or so, which should give you time to stop blushing.” I leap up like his sofa is burning me and scuttle to the door as quickly as I can. “And Tris – if you breathe a word to anyone about where my flat is, I will arrange a very unfortunate accident.”

 

By the time the others come into the dining hall, I have stopped blushing and can only hope I don’t look too traumatised. Christina and Will appear first, followed by Al. They sit down around me and load up with food. I notice that Will winces as he sits.

                “What happened?” I ask. Christina laughs and leans in to whisper loudly.

                “Four took him for boxing practise. Knocked him right out of the ring, straight onto his ass on the concrete.”

                “It isn’t funny,” Will grumbles.

                “No, but what was funny is when Four looms up and asks him if he’s OK, and this little voice just says ‘I think my ass is broken.’ Even Four cracked a grin at that.” We all laugh, even Will.

                “Where did you and Eric go?” Al asks, helping himself to mashed potatoes and sausages.

                “Yeah, are you OK?” Christina asks. “I can’t see any fresh bruises?”

                “We didn’t fight. He made me do core exercises.” I’ve had time to think of this, and reckon it’s the least suspicious thing I can say.

                “After Four made you do ten minutes of sit ups? God, you poor thing. How can you even move?”

                “Oh you should have seen me when I first got here,” I reply. “I was basically crawling.”

                “Where did he take you for that?”

                “The Dauntless-born gym I think. The stuff was green instead of orange. They weren’t there anyway.” This can be backed up – Lauren had an earlier meeting than Four, and the Dauntless-born initiates were sent out into the city to do a timed run. I heard them complaining about it. So even if one of them does feel the need to check my story, it can be verified that the Dauntless-born training rooms were empty. “He said something about being about to shout louder there and oh boy did he shout. Apparently I’m a limp noodle.”

                “A limp noodle?”

                “A limp noodle,” I confirm. “He’d run out of swear words.” I wait for Will and Al to start a conversation and lean towards Christina, who has fortunately sat down next to me for once instead of next to Will. “Can we hang out this afternoon? Just us?” She nods at once.

                “Of course. We could do some shopping.”

                “I was thinking new tattoos,” I say. Her whole face lights up.

                “Definitely,” she says. “I’ve been bugging Will for ages but he’s still moaning about how much the first one hurt.”

 

After lunch she makes our excuses to Will and we race each other up the paths to the studio. I arrive first and make the best show I can of waiting for her.

                “What are you going to get?” I ask, opening the door and wandering in.

                “There was a really cool one I saw last time, but it looked a bit big to be the first one. Here it is,” she says, taking the design down. I look it over. A hummingbird in full flight, wings drawn back and head tipped back to the sky. It’s huge.

                “Where would you put this?” I ask.

                “On my back, between my shoulders. You going to get another?”

                “What else would I be doing here?” I have three now – my ravens, my Dauntless flames and a tiny letter T on my ankle. I wander through the displays. Christina goes up to the desk and hands over the hummingbird.

                “Can you hang onto it for me, please?” she asks. “I want to help Tris.”

                “Sure, initiate. We’re quiet. Take your time.”

“Ah, thank you so much. Sorry, what’s your name?”

“I’m Bud. Yours?”

“Christina,” she says. She joins me, examining a rack of what appear to be weapons.

                “I don’t want weapons tattooed on me,” I say. “I’m thinking something to compliment the Dauntless flames. Make them bigger, maybe, or add to them –“

                “Hmm. Hey, Bud? Could we consult your artistic skills?” He comes over, and I watch him interact with Christina, the casual way she smiles at him. I think this could be called flirting.

                “What can I do for you, initiates?”

                “Tris is struggling a bit. Tell him what you want,” she says to me. I touch my shoulder blade as best as I can.

                “I’ve got a Dauntless badge here, about an inch or so wide. I didn’t get the circle tattooed round it, just the cluster of flames. I want to maybe build on that and expand the flames, maybe add one of the phoenixes?” I say, gesturing at the designs on the opposite wall. He nods.

                “I can do that. I’ll have Ken do this hummingbird for you, Christina, and while she’s busy I’ll do some sketches.” I watch Christina go under the pad.

                “That’ll take about twenty minutes for you,” Ken says, grinning. “It’s a bit bigger than your Dauntless badge. Let me know you if you need a break from it, I’ll go and make sure Bud isn’t designing a three-hour pain fest for your friend here.”

                “Thank you Ken,” she says. I step up.

 

                “How you doing?” I ask.

                “This burns like a bitch but I’m OK. So, what did you want me for?” I glance round. Ken and Bud have their heads close together over a sheet of paper, and are too far away to hear a low voice. I take the vacated seat by the bed and lean in close.

                “Can you keep a secret?”

                “I left my faction to keep secrets, Tris. Of course I can. They don’t make a habit of running around with truth serum here.”

                “I wasn’t doing core exercises with Eric,” I say, still quietly.

                “I knew you weren’t,” she says, with an air of satisfaction. “No way could someone who spent half an hour doing core exercises move as easily as you did. And limp noodle? You’re a terrible liar.” I laugh despite myself. “So if you weren’t doing core exercises, what were you doing?”

                “He apologised to me. For what happened yesterday night.”

                “He what? No way. He apologised?”

                “He said he was sorry for making me uncomfortable.” She laughs.

                “My God. I hope that’s caught on camera somewhere.”

                “It gets worse,” I mutter. “He tried to give me a – a talk.”

                “A talk? Was he ranting on about ‘being Factionless’ and ‘bucking up ideas’ and ‘do you actually want to be here?’”

                “No,” I say. “And honestly, if you tell anyone this next bit it’ll only be a question of whether I kill you or if he kills you. He tried to give me a sex talk.”

                “He did not!”

                “He did. I told him I knew it to get him to not give me said talk.”

                “Do you know it?”

                “I know the – I know as much as I need to, thank you,” I say, flushing again. “How’s the tattoo feeling?”

                “Fine. I think your possibly fatal embarrassment might be making it feel better. So what do you need me to do?” This is why I like Christina. She knows I’m telling her this because I need her help.

                “Eric made a couple of suggestions, and as much as it kills me to take advice from him, I think on this occasion he might be right. He suggested that I perhaps buy some more – flattering clothing, or do something to draw attention to myself, so perhaps that same attention becomes more natural to me. And I guess I’m going to need to stop getting dressed in the bathroom or behind towels and blankets.”

                “I can help with that. I have wanted to dress you up since I saw you in that god-awful Abnegation grey.”

                “Tris!” Bud calls. “We’re ready with a design for you.” I go over. “This would cover your shoulders completely.” The phoenix is rising from the flames that surround it, wings pointing upwards. “The flames would form the base, along the line of your shoulder blades and cover them too, going up. The phoenix would lie over your spine and the tips of its wings would wrap around your neck and collar. How’s that?”

                “It’s perfect.”   

                “Great. You’ll have to take your shirt off – if you have a tank on underneath that, you’ll have to take that off too, and undo your bra, because of where we’ll have to put the pads for it.”

                “It’s so cool!” she enthuses. “How long will this take?”

                “An hour,” Bud says. “You’re welcome to hang around?”

                “Oh, you don’t have to,” I say. “I could meet you in an hour? Then we could go shopping.”

                “Works for me, I’m going to find Will and Al and show them my new art. How much, please?”

                “Five points,” Bud says, grinning at her. “Ken can take your payment.”

                “How much will this be?” I ask.

                “Fifteen points, because of the size, colour and duration.” I nod. I’m up to nearly a hundred points now and fifteen won’t hurt it.

                “OK. Christina, we’ll have a budget of say fifteen points for the shopping too, OK?”

                “Excellent! Hey, can I tell Will and Al what you’re doing?”

                “Yeah, go for it.” She pays and leaves and Bud sends me through to the back of the studio.

                “You can undress in there, then give me a shout. I tell you Tris, I got to thank you for this – it’s been so damn long since I got to do any design work. If you keep coming to me for work like this, I guess we can arrange a discount.” I decide to try a bit of flirting.

                “You’ll always be my first call, Bud,” I say, and he smiles at me.

                “Just for that, darling, you can have two points off this one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the first five chapters!
> 
> Updates are going to be daily - yes, daily - until the story is done, at which point a sequel will be released. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think thus far!


	6. The Phoenix Rises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris finds acceptance among the Dauntless-born, and Christina dispenses some sage advice.

_SEPTEMBER 6 TH – 16TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE ONE (EVENING)_

 

An hour later, Christina, Will and Al all pile in as I’m paying for the tattoo. I’ve left my t-shirt off as Bud told me to let it breathe – even though the healing is done by the pads that apply the ink, Bud says that they should get the air to them for at least an hour after finishing.

                “Holy shit!” Christina shouts. “It’s bloody amazing!” I flush.

                “I know – how great is Bud at this? Will, Al, you want custom work, I think Bud’s your guy.”

                “Four is going to flip out when he sees it,” Will says. Al is gazing at me; I can see him in the mirror. “You have to go to training tomorrow in just a tank top; everyone has got to see this.”

                “Yeah, I guess I could do that.” Bud hands back my card and gives me a smile.

                “It’s been a pleasure, Initiate. Here’s some cream – have this young lady put it on for you before you go to bed and try to sleep on your front tonight. You’ll be good as new tomorrow. And remember me for your next adventure.”

                “I will. Thank you Bud,” I say. We go out and the boys look at us.

                “We’re going to go and see what’s on in the Pit. You ladies coming?” Will asks.

                “No, we’re going shopping,” Christina says. “We’ll catch up with you guys later.” They roll their eyes and leave us, and Christina takes my arm to pull me in the direction she has obviously already planned.

                “Where we going?”

                “I found this great shop earlier,” she says. “It’s a bit different to the others, they do some alternative stuff. Tight but not revealing, so I figured it might be best for you.” She pulls me inside and I look round. This wasn’t one of the shops I went into before I brought the jumpsuit – which is still folded and tucked away into my drawer, waiting for the occasion when I can find the guts to put it on. Christina goes over to one of the racks against the wall and starts flipping through.

                “Now, they were here – ah!” She pulls out a pair of skin-tight trousers that look shiny.

                “Leather trousers?” I ask.

                “No, I’m not sure what they’re made of. Do you want to try them on?” I shrug.

                “Sure, why not?” She hands them to me and moves along.

                “This top too.” She hands me something that looks like a very short skirt.

                “Christina, this isn’t a top!”

                “Of course it is. Strapless. It’ll show off that tattoo as well.” I dither. “Just try it on, Tris,” she says gently. “You don’t have to buy it, but just try it on and see what you think.” I agree, albeit reluctantly. The rest of the things she picks out are more modest – a black dress with geometric cut outs over the waist, a black, flowing tunic top with thin straps and a shirt with a scooped neckline.

 

She bundles me into a changing room.

                “You have to come out and show me when you’ve got stuff on!” she calls through the curtain.

                “What?”

                “That’s part of shopping with a friend, Tris,” she says, with mock severity. “You show your friend so she can stop you buying anything terrible.”

                “You picked these out!” I call. My voice is muffled by the tank top I’m yanking over my head and she laughs at me.

                “There’s a huge difference between seeing something on the hanger and seeing it on someone. What are you trying on first?”

                “I’m going to put the trousers on,” I say, hopping about on one foot. “Then try the shirts in combination with them. I’m starting with this large belt.” I pull the outfit on and peek at the mirror. “Oh, hell no!” The trousers are nice but there’s no way on earth I’m wearing this shirt. I rip back the curtain. “Not this shirt.”

                “No, you’re right,” she says, considering me with her head slightly tilted to the side. “It doesn’t suit you.” I go back in and take it off, carefully replacing it on the hanger. “The trousers are nice though,” she adds. “Will you get those, do you think?”

                “I think so.”

                “They make your ass look _amazing_.”     

                “Christina!”

                “What, what? They do!”

                “Whatever,” I mutter, pulling the scoop neck on. I look at myself. This isn’t too bad, but I don’t know that I think too much of it. “What about this?”

                “I like it.”

                “I do too, but I’m not sure I like it enough to buy it, you know?” I say, going back in.

                “One thing I’ve learnt about shopping, Tris, is that if you feel like that about it in the shop, you’ll either end up returning it or never wearing it. Don’t bother.” I pull the tunic top on and look in the mirror.

                “OK, this I’m getting.” I walk out and perform a little spin.

                “Definitely. It looks lovely and it shows off the tattoo, and your shoulders. Plus it’s loose but not frumpy, you know? And it goes so well with those trousers too. How much are they both?” I check as I wriggle out of both things.

                “Both one point each,” I call. “The dress is two.” I pull it on. “Hmm.”

                “Show me,” she orders. I come out.

                “Buy it,” she says, instantly. “Now. It’s perfect.”

                “It’s a bit revealing,” I say dubiously. The cut outs are bigger than I thought, showing my waist from ribs to hips. There’s cut outs on front and back too, showing my navel and spine.

                “It is, and it would be totally new for you, but Tris – look at yourself.” She turns me gently to look in the mirror again. “Think about it – your breasts are covered, your ass is covered. What’s so bad about your waist? This dress was _made_ for you. You look stunning.” I shake my head at her reflection.

                “I’m not stunning.”

                “God, you really believe that, don’t you? OK, yeah, you aren’t classically beautiful. But you are stunning. Striking. This dress suits you, you look amazing in it. Take your hair down, shake it out.” I do so, and she pulls some of it forward to fall around my shoulders.

                “When would I even wear it?” I ask.

                “When we’ve finished Stage One in four days,” she says firmly. “There’s going to be a huge party in the Pit and the Dauntless-born say the dress code is “to impress” – this dress is that party.”

                “If I’m still here,” I mutter.

                “You’ll still be here. You’re getting better, so much better. The next biggest thing is War Games tomorrow night, right? And that’s the only big thing left. You smash that, and you’re in. And Eric seems to have taken an interest in you.” I swing round to stare in amazement.

                “I don’t want to stay on that basis,” I say. “I want to earn it!” I pull the curtain over and start getting changed back into my regular clothes.

                “You are earning it, idiot. I’m just saying, this thing with Eric – it’s interesting.”

                “Interesting is one word for it,” I mutter.

                “Haven’t you noticed how he looks at you?” she demands.

                “With rage, most of the bloody time.”

                “Well, yes. When you’re looking at him,” she says, cryptically.

                “What’s that supposed to mean?”

                “When you aren’t looking at him, he stares at you constantly.” I remember the conversation I overheard in the dorm, the conversation that triggered my impulsive purchase of the jumpsuit. “Peter thinks he’s got a thing for you.”

                “The only thing Eric has for me is hatred. I irritate him. At best, he’s looking at me and imagining all the ways he could strangle me and get away with it.”

                “No, that isn’t it. There’s – it’s almost like he’s hungry.”

                “Maybe he is. I’ve never seen the guy eat anything.” She laughs. I pull the curtain aside.

                “That isn’t what I mean, Tris. Here, give me what you’re not buying, I’ll put it back.” I hand her the strapless top and the scoop neck, and take the dress, trousers and tunic top up to the counter. As I’m paying, the door swings open and a couple of people walk in.

                “No way! That is some epic artwork!” I half turn and see two people I vaguely know as Dauntless-born initiates staring at me. “The Stiff?” The boy asks, gazing at me.

                “Tris,” I say.

                “I’m Uriah. That is a seriously cool tattoo, who did that?”

                “Bud did. He designed it for me too. Hurt like hell.”

                “I bet,” the girl with him says, staring hard at me. “Didn’t think it’d be the Stiff that got all the cool tattoos first,” she says, smiling at me. “I’m Marlene.”

                “This is Christina,” I say, as she comes up. “Christina, this is Uriah and Marlene.”

                “The Candor transfer,” Uriah says, grinning as they shake hands. “I remember you from the train. How’s training going?”

                “Fine. Four and Eric are pushing.”

                “I heard a rumour that there was an incident,” Marlene says, looking at my battered ear. “That the Abnegation transfer mouthed off to Eric and he threw a knife at her for her trouble.”

                “I was sticking up for a friend and actually he threw eight at me. This is the one that caught.” I say, touching the ear. It’s still badly bruised.

                “Unbelievable,” Uriah says, shaking his head. “You got balls, Stiff.”          

                “Thank you,” I say. “Christina?”

                “Yeah. Oh look, Will and Al are outside. You done, Tris?”

                “Yep. Oh, are you buying that?” I ask, looking at the shirt in her hands.

                “Yeah. I’ll meet you out there.”

 

When she comes out, she looks very pleased with herself about something. We go off with Will and Al, and as we turn into the path leading to the dorms, a very strange sound reaches my ears.

                “Can you guys hear that?” I ask. “Sounds like someone in pain.” The moan comes again and the others start scrambling.

                “Oh, Tris, I don’t think that’s someone in pain –“

                “No, come on, let’s uh –“

                “No, don’t!” The three voices say in unison as I pull open the supply closet door.


	7. What We Do in the Closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al explains certain things to Tris, and makes her an offer of practical assistance with learning new skills...

_SEPTEMBER 6 TH – 16TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE ONE (EVENING)_

 

                “We’re so sorry,” Christina gabbles, pulling me away. “Come _on,_ Tris!” She pulls at me until I follow her, and Will slams the door shut on the two indignant faces. “Keep walking Tris,” she mutters, positively dragging me into the dorm. Al shuts the door behind us all, looking vaguely amused. “Sit down,” she urges, pushing me onto my bunk. Al flops down beside me and untangles the handles of my bag from around my fingers.            

                “Easy there, Tris,” he murmurs. “You’ll be OK.”

                “What – what – what were they doing?” I mutter.

                “Uh, well, Tris –“ Al says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m – you don’t know?” I can feel them exchanging glances.

                “No,” I say. “I mean – I know it was – personal.”

                “Will?” Christina says, her voice slightly strained. “I think you might want to field this question.”

                “Absolutely not. Al, you can jump on this one as you’re next to her.” Al takes a very deep breath.

                “I fucking hate you. Tris,” he says, turning to me. I start to look up. “No, God, don’t look at me while I’m putting this into words. It’s called a blowjob.” Christina lets out a strangled little giggle.

                “I’m sorry, Tris, it isn’t funny, but oh dear lord this is the most awkward thing in the entire world. I assume this is not something that is done in Abnegation?”

                “Not – not – if it is nobody would ever mention it!” I cry. “Abnegation – Abnegation – sex is private and it is a procreation matter not – not just casual. People don’t even hold hands in public for God’s sake, let alone do – that in a broom cupboard.”

                “Jesus, do they tell you anything in preparation for the wedding night – I assume Abnegation keep it for the wedding anyway?”

                “Yes. And when a girl gets engaged, the idea is that her mother tells her what she needs to know, what to expect.”

                “I don’t understand at all how that fits into the Abnegation manifesto,” Will says.

                “We’re taught that physical contact is a powerful thing – because physical contact might make someone uncomfortable, we don’t do it without express permission. So I could never take someone’s hand or kiss them. Public displays of affection fit under that too – Abnegation considers it disgusting because it draws attention to you.” I feel like I’m on safer ground now.

                “I see.”

                “So have you – have you all – um –“

                “Have we all had sex?” Christina prompts. I nod, speechless with embarrassment. “I have.”

                “Me too,” Al says, quietly.

                “And me,” Will says cheerfully. He winks obscenely. “Erudite like to experiment.” We’re all silent for a while. I wonder about telling them where Eric’s flat is so he can arrange that accident for me. Hell, I might just go and jump into the Chasm right now. Anything would be better than this circle of hell I have inadvertently found myself in.

                “Tris, have you – have you ever even kissed someone?” I shake my head.

                “No. I’ve never want – I’ve never had the opportunity.”

                “So there’s been someone you wanted to kiss?” Will asks, interested now. “I bet it’s me.”

                “It is not,” I say rather definitely. Christina laughs and nudges Will with her shoulder.

                “Rejected,” she says cheerfully. “So Tris, who was it?”

                “There was a boy, at school. I didn’t even know his name. He was Erudite, and he looked handsome in his blue coat. He was – kind, to me and my brother, I mean. I was only fourteen, but I’d seen other people kissing. And I guess I wanted to know what it felt like.”

                “Fortune favours the bold, my dear Tris,” Will says. “You should have gone for it.”

                “I wouldn’t have known how to begin, or what to do once I had begun. The most kissing I’ve ever done is having my mother kiss me goodnight.” Christina suddenly springs up, her mouth open in shock.

                “Will! We forgot – we’re late, we have to go and – sort that thing out!” Will’s eyes widen too and he leaps up.

                “Fuck! Look here, Tris, sorry and all, but we’re going to have to go out for a bit. We’ll be right back. I’m sure Al can finish explaining.” They both rocket off before either me or Al can argue about it.

                “They’re up to something, aren’t they?” I ask.

                “Yes they are, but don’t ask me what because I’m sworn to secrecy.” We sit in silence for a little while.

                “Al, can I ask you something?”

                “Sure?”

                “Do – do guys like – what that girl was doing?” He goes about as red as I feel, so I at least feel better that we’re both absolutely mortified.

                “I want it noted that this is one of the more uncomfortable experiences of my life.”

                “Sorry. We can talk about something else –“

                “No, I don’t mind. That isn’t what I meant, although I’m not sure what I meant really. Yes, it’s something guys – or most guys – enjoy. It feels good, it’s pleasurable. It’s sexy.”

                “Sexy.”

                “Uh-huh.”

                “And – and –“ I stop, unsure of how to say it, or even if I should say it.

                “You can ask me anything Tris,” he says, quietly. I steel a glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He’s slightly hunched over and is staring at his big hands, clasped loosely in his lap. I knew Al was tall and strong, but sitting next to me now he seems like a giant. Al, I realise, makes me feel safe, secure. Like his size is a shield against me, like I could stand by him and be safe automatically. I feel on firmer ground questioning him than I felt about talking to Christina in the tattoo shop about what Eric said to me. “I’d rather tell you than have the others do it. Plus, I was Candor right? Can’t lie about it.”

                “Can guys do – do something like it for girls?”

                “Yeah. Yeah, they can. Maybe those two planned to get to that bit before we interrupted.” We both giggle a bit.

                “Why do that bit?” I ask. “Do you need to – for, you know, sex?” He shrugs.

                “For girls – and guys to a certain extent – yeah, some foreplay is necessary.”

                “And that’s what a blowjob is, foreplay?” Al is treating this whole discussion as if we’re just chatting about dinner. It puts me at some kind of ease.

                “Yeah. It can be done just on its own, but yeah, it’s normally foreplay.”

                “You said it was necessary?”

                “OK, I’m going to get pretty damn personal at this point?”

                “OK. I’d rather you than anyone else, I think.”

                “You know the mechanics right – penis in vagina?” I blush a bit and look down at the blanket. I pick a bit of lint off.

                “I know that bit.”

                “Excellent. I really didn’t want to have to draw you a fucking diagram. Well, you can’t just – just shove it in, right? A girl has to be aroused, or it’ll hurt like hell. So you do foreplay. Fingers, mouths. Stimulation. And a blow job is fun for all and plus it helps a guy to be a bit – wet.”

                “God. I feel so stupid, for not knowing all this.”

                “Don’t,” he says. “It’s not your fault is it? I had no idea Abnegation kept its children so sheltered.”

                "They call us Stiffs for a reason.”

                “I just can’t believe you’ve never even kissed someone.”           

                “I don’t even know how to kiss someone. Apart from like, my mom, and I’m guessing that’s a little bit different.” I raise my hand up to my lips, and kiss the back gently. “That’s what I used to do.”

                “Yeah, it’s a bit different,” he says, laughing a little. I pull my shoulders up into half a shrug.

                “Can you show me?” I ask.

                “Show you? What, you want me to kiss someone so you can see it? I’m not your performing monkey.”

                “No,” I say, laughing a bit. “I mean show me. Kiss me. Like you would kiss someone who isn’t a relative, when you like them.” He’s quiet for so long I think he might have had some kind of stroke. “I’m sorry,” I mutter. “I shouldn’t have asked that.” He puts out a hand, takes mine, and for once I don’t pull it back.

                “No, it’s OK,” he mutters. “If it’s what you want – if you’re sure – then I’ll do it.”

                “I’m sure,” I say. “I want.” He leans forward, and I notice how long his eyelashes are, and how rough his cheeks are because he hasn’t shaved today. His eyes aren’t brown, they’re almost amber in the light, and his lips look soft.

                “Tell me if you want to stop,” he murmurs.

 

His lips are soft. And gentle. I thought they might be chapped but they aren’t. His mouth is slightly open, and it doesn’t last long. He looks at me.

                “How was that?”

                “That was good. Is – is that a kiss?”

                “No, that’s kind of a first stage kiss. It can get a bit more intense. If you both want it to.”

                “Can we do a bit more intense?” He smiles, and shifts a bit closer. He lets go of my hand and puts that hand on the side of my neck, letting his thumb touch my jaw bone.

                “Close your eyes,” he whispers, as if we’re hiding and must be silent. I let them fall closed, and feel his mouth on mine again. This time, he moves, his mouth gentle, thumb stroking my jaw. Drawn by an instinct I never knew I had, I open my mouth and he responds. His other hand takes the other side of my face, his fingers slipping into my hair. My own hands go up, onto his arms, feeling the power there. My hands can barely even cover his biceps. I feel small in his arms. His tongue quests out and tentatively, I slide mine to greet it. His hand tightens ever so slightly in my hair, and he comes even closer. There’s a limit on how close he can get – my legs are still drawn up and he’s pressed against them. Without breaking our kiss I untangle them, stretching out, and he takes the opportunity to pull me in, drag me closer, deepening the kiss. I’m on his lap.

 

And it’s nice, the whole thing is _wonderful_. My heart is banging an erratic pattern against my ribs, thrumming rapidly under my skin and beating along the lines of my new tattoo. His hand on my neck is on my waist, clutching. He can cup it perfectly, my hip small under his fingers. Something is building deep inside me, a fire is burning somewhere around my navel, a strange but not unpleasant feeling I’ve never felt before.

 

He pulls back first.

                “Tris,” he breathes, my name no more than a sigh on his lips. “We have to stop.”

                “Did I do something wrong?” I ask. My lips feel like they’re burning. He reaches up to touch them.

                “No, God no. For someone who hasn’t done that before you’re insanely good at it. We have to stop because we won’t be alone in here forever and I – I am getting a little bit too – happy about this.” I slide off his lap. He does look a bit flushed and his hair is all over the place. Did I do that?

                “Sorry,” I mutter.

                “No. You don’t have anything to be sorry about. That was amazing.”

                “Really? You aren’t just saying that?”

                “Candor, remember?” he asks, laughing. “I don’t think I’m capable of lying. It was perfect. Too perfect.”

                “Thank you. For showing me, I mean.”

                “My pleasure. Quite literally, in fact. Any time you want to practise, I am more than happy to help.”

                “Thanks. But – I don’t want to – I don’t want to give you –“ I stumble a little over the words.

                “Tris, it’s fine. I promise not to fall in love with you.”

                “OK,” I say, laughing. “Then I’ll let you know.” He moves to sit on Christina’s bunk, and just in time as the others come barging in. We exchange secret glances for the rest of the night.

 

 


	8. Chicago Sunrises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris shows Al her rooftop sanctuary and in return he shows her some new tricks...

_SEPTEMBER 7 TH – 17TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE ONE (MORNING)_

 

I’m not the only early riser the next morning. As I’m tiptoeing to the door, movement stirs behind me.

                “Tris?”

                “Al?”

                “Can I come too?”

                “Sure. I’ll wait outside.” He comes out a few minutes later and grins at me. I smile back.

                “Are we going to training?” I decide in a minute what I’m going to do.

                “No. Can I show you something?”

                “Sure.”

 

I take him to the roof. The sky is pitted with stars above us and over in the east, the sky is turning a very pale pink.

                “Is this where you come?”

                “No. Most morning’s I train. But I wanted to show you this, as a thank you. For last night. For not telling anyone.”

                “That’s my pleasure, as I said last night. And I’ll keep the secret. I quite like the idea of being your secret.” I smile at him.      

                “I love it up here. You can’t see the sun come up in Abnegation.”

                “You never saw a sunrise?”

                “No, I saw plenty. We’d get up early in Abnegation, and feed the Factionless. So I’d see it then. But this is the first time I could stand and watch it.” We’re quiet for a while.

                “How’s your ear?” he asks. I touch it, surprised.

                “Fine. I hadn’t thought about it for a while.”

                “How’s the tattoo?”

                “Brilliant,” I say. “I love it. I guess this is the sort of thing that will help me get more comfortable showing some skin.”

                “It’s seriously beautiful. And it suits you. Did it mean something?”

                “Phoenixes are born out of the fire, they are very tough. I figured it’d be a good representation of this baptism of fire they’re putting us through here.”   

                “You’re tough. Nobody thought you’d make it, and you’re proving them all wrong. You’re better than me.”

                “Horseshit,” I say. “You’re going to come first.”

                “Oh, Peter will love that.”

                “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” I say, laughing. “I’m probably going to end up Factionless.”

                “No. Maybe once, but not now. I think Eric is too interested in you to throw you out.” I frown. “What’s wrong?”

                “Christina said something about that,” I reply, leaning over the railing to look down. “I don’t understand why. Eric hates my guts.” Even as I say it I know I’m doubting it. If he did hate me, he wouldn’t have apologised. He wouldn’t have carried me to Medical. Al shakes his head, but I hurry on before he can start a debate about it. “And even if he doesn’t, I don’t want to stay because he’s _interested_ in me – what’s that even meant to mean, anyway? – I want to earn it.”

                “You are earning it. You stood in front of a target for me. Brave doesn’t even cover it. And it means – we think he might have a bit of a thing for you. He’s always watching you. Even when he was doing my one-on-one stuff yesterday he was looking at you. I didn’t do half the exercises he told me to and he didn’t even notice. He was too busy watching you throw knives around. You looked pretty angry.”               

                “I was imagining he was the target.” Al laughs.

                “You’re mad.”

                “You’ve only just realised?”

                “No, I figured it out when you threw your coat at Peter and jumped first.”

                “I kind of loved that moment. It felt like flying.”

                “I was shitting myself. And the worst bit was that nobody felt like they could scream, because you laughed all the way down.” We’re both quiet, watching the sun creep over the horizon. “Did you always want to be Dauntless?” he asks.

                “I think so. When I was a little girl I used to run behind them, imagining what it must be like to be so free and so admired. Abnegation are meant to be invisible, right? The Dauntless are the opposite of that. I wanted to climb the buildings with them and jump off the trains and stand on a roof and see the whole city beneath my feet.”

                “Was Dauntless your test result?”

                “No, I got Abnegation. Was Dauntless yours?”

                “Candor,” he says, shaking his head. “But I – I didn’t feel like I fitted. I wanted something different.”

                “Did you ever think of any other faction?”

                “I considered Abnegation, actually. God knows the training would have been easier. I guess it’s a bit different.”

                “Just a bit,” I say, laughing. “The Abnegation initiation is thirty days of community service and quiet reflection. The Initiation Ceremony is a subdued thing – the initiates sit side-by-side on a bench while an older faction member reads the manifesto aloud. Then the older members wash the feet of the initiates, and then a communal meal is served.”

                “That’s it?” he asks.

                “That’s it. It’s basically impossible to fail. But in the end, you chose Dauntless?”

                “Yes. And here we are, on a roof, watching the sun come up and even though I am terrified, I love it here. I love the madness and the unpredictability, I love the way that they force you beyond any limits you have, force you to find strength to keep on going even when you’re exhausted and just want to sit down and throw in the towel. Plus I met you, so that’s a positive.”

                “Aren’t you sweet,” I say, poking him in the ribs. He jabs me back. “Ow, that hurt.”

                “It did not.”

                “Did a bit. You got me right on a bruise.”

                “Oh well, sorry then,” he says, not really sounding sorry at all. “It’s great up here. Do people know about it?”

                “I assume most people do, but I’ve never seen anyone – apart from Four who burst in on me one morning to check I wasn’t planning to fling myself off. I’d rather you didn’t broadcast it.”

                “No problem. Were you planning to?”

                “No. As I said to him, if I were planning on offing myself, I’d probably just use the gun in my locker. Much quicker.”

                “So, are you looking forward to your birthday tomorrow?”

                “I’m not sure. I’ve never celebrated so I’m not sure about what’s going to happen. Plus as Christina’s organising it I’m not sure if I should be excited or absolutely terrified.”

                “Oh terrified, definitely. Yeah, we planned it so you can confront your fears and move forward in Dauntless life. We even asked Four to give you some points for it,” he says, smirking.

                “Oh God. I might jump off then, you never know.” I look at my watch – it’s half past six. “Come on, let’s go for breakfast. We might even be able to snaffle a double chocolate muffin, which if you’re nice to me I might even consider sharing with you.”

                “How nice do I have to be?” He asks, slipping an arm around my waist. I don’t throw him off, and I find I like the contact. Again, I feel small in his arms and I love that feeling. There’s a slight risk to it, being in the arms of a man who could probably snap me clean in half if he had a mind to. I can feel all the power of him but know for sure that none of it is intended to hurt me. I think this counts as flirting, so I lean back into it, resting my head on his arm, as I can’t reach his shoulder.

                “I’m not sure. How nice can you be?”

                “I can give you a kissing lesson in exchange for half.” I purse my lips.

                “I don’t know. That sounds more like something worth a quarter of a muffin.”

                “How about I give you the lesson and then you can decide how much to pay me?”

                “Never go into business Al. You’d be bankrupt in days.”

                “Yeah, but I’d be a happy bankrupt,” he says.

 

And he kisses me and I smile under his lips and turn in his arms to face him. He wraps his arms around my torso and pulls me closer, dragging me onto my tiptoes. Even so it’s damn uncomfortable – until he moves his arms and picks me up.

                “Do you trust me, Tris?” he murmurs, still kissing me.

                “Yes,” I gasp, because I do. He sits me on top of the metal railing running around the edge of the roof, bringing our faces level. There’s a drop behind me of about sixty feet and I am not at all afraid. I am too occupied by the warmth of his body against mine, the feel of his lips under mine, the feel of his hands in my hair and at my back. His shoulders are solid beneath my hands, his hair soft at the nape of his neck and there’s the slight scratch of stubble on his chin. The feeling in my stomach is back, a strange burn that isn’t unpleasant. Far from it, it seems to be consuming me; building something inside me I don’t recognise and don’t understand. I press closer to him, pulling him into me. His hands run over my newly tattooed shoulders, down my arms, drifting onto my waist to press himself closer. He breaks it, resting his forehead against mine.

                “Is that worth half a muffin?” he breathes. I nod.

                “I think so. But we won’t have one to share if we don’t get there soon.” He doesn’t move. “Al?” I prompt.

                “Shh, I’m thinking.”        

                “Mind you don’t hurt yourself,” I say, and he smiles.

                “You’re an ass. No, I’m thinking about whether it’s worth stopping kissing you just for a muffin.”

                “Well we can’t stay up here all day. I’ll let you eat the bigger half,” I sing-song. He nods, and steps back. He lifts me down and winks at me.

                “Race you down the stairs?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a short chapter, but a bit sexy hopefully! 
> 
> Smut will come in this story, but we build to it slowly. But, like all slow-burners, it gives off the most heat in the long run. Thank you for reading and sticking with it :)


	9. The Great Cookie Robbery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Initiates participate in a timed city run and Tris discovers that the Dauntless have a playful side.

_SEPTEMBER 7 TH – 17TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE ONE (MORNING)_

 

We got our muffin. By the time the others stumble in, bleary eyed and half-awake, there’s only bran left and Al and I are eating scrambled eggs. Four comes up when we’re all halfway through.

                “Initiates. Where are the others?” Shrugs are given out.

                “Edward and Myra are there,” I say helpfully, pointing at them a couple of tables over, feeding each other eggs and being cute. “No idea about the others.”

                “Fine. Timed city run today. By the tracks at 08.00 and not a second later. You will be running with your guns – unloaded – and your small kit bags. Take water.” He goes over to Edward and Myra.

                “Joys,” Will says moodily. “And there was me hoping for some nice easy boxing.”

                “What’s rattled your cage?” I demand.

                “Ignore him,” Christina says, rolling her eyes. “He woke up like it. Shall we? It’s half past seven already. Gym first, get the weapons?”

 

By five to eight, everyone but Peter, Drew and Molly are present. They appear, panting, mere seconds before Four and Eric stroll out. They, I notice, have neither kit bags nor guns.

                “Listen up!” Four bellows. “Everyone got their radios? Good. The train will be here in ten minutes. You will each be dropped off at separate points around the city. The goal is to make it back here as quickly as you can, without getting lost. To make it fair, we are going to drop you off at exactly equal points. Nobody is to start running until 08.45 at which point you will all start running. And to ensure you all stick to that, you will be fitted with cameras, which will attach to your rucksacks.” He issues cameras at lightning speed and we fix them to the straps of the rucksacks. “The cameras don’t start recording until 08.45, so if anyone has moved from their drop off point, we will know. The consequences of that are not something you want to learn,” Four concludes, glaring round.

“If you should get into trouble during your run, you are to use your radios. They are not to be used to have a little chat while you wait to go. Everyone ready to jump?” Eric asks. The train whistles in and we jump into the back carriage as that’s the one Four and Eric get into.

                “Get into line, initiates!” Eric barks, glaring round. “Peter, you’re first off. Then Al, Will, Christina, Myra, Edward, Molly, Drew and finally the Stiff.” Great, I think as we organise into the line Eric read out. Not only do I get to be last off, I get to have nobody to talk to. The others jump in turn, but when it comes to me, Eric yanks me back. He and Four draw together.

                “We have heard a rumour, Stiff,” Eric announces. “Involving something on your back. Rucksack off.”

                “Don’t I have to jump soon?” I query.

                “You do, so best be quick about it. Rucksack off, turn around, move that hair out of the way.” I heave a sigh, but do as I’m told. I swing the tail of hair off my back. The tank top I never covered reveals the phoenix in all its glory.

                “I’m impressed, Stiff,” Eric says. “And your drop off is coming up.” I swing the bag back onto my shoulders and get a grip on the gun.

                “Count of three, Initiate,” Four says, leaning out of the doors. “One, two, three – jump!” I jump and roll on the landing, taking a knee at once. I watch the train disappear behind me and check my watch. 08.40. Five minutes to go yet. I sip water, and turn the radio on. There’s a burst of static and then silence. I take the few minutes to look around and try and work out where I am. Ironically I will have the best chance of not getting lost, even if I can’t run as fast or as far as the others. Abnegation go all over the city to help the Factionless. I stand and survey.

 

Yes, I know where I am. South walls, near the old river. If I follow the river for a mile and a half, then bear west, I will come up against Candor and then I must turn north to reach Dauntless. If I maintain a steady jog, this should take me around 90 minutes. I set myself a target of 80. The most important thing is to not to exhaust myself too early. The camera beeps as it turns on. 08.45.

 

I jog steadily, feeling the reassuring thump of the rucksack on my back. The water pipe hangs over my shoulder. I sip steadily. The old river bed is marshy, birds pecking for worms and insects in the moss that forms its base. The sun is warm, although I know that if I wasn’t running I’d be cold. Sweat pools and I realise I should have sorted out my ponytail before I started running. When I reach Candor, I will stop; break for water and to tie my hair back into a bun. The city is awake, but everyone stays well out of the way, and I jog down the centre of the streets. Abnegation grey surrounds me but even if I did recognise someone I couldn’t stop. I can imagine how well that would go down. The bloody cheek, giving us cameras. What if I need the bathroom? Actually, what if I need the bathroom?

 

No, best not to think about that, or I’ll start needing to go. Think about Al instead. Oh yes, Al. The kisses that make me burn like mad and – oh bloody fuck, cameras. I nearly grind to a halt. Four knew I was on the roof because of cameras. But are there cameras on the roof or are there cameras only on the stairs? Either way, if Four was watching – oh fuck, fuck, fuck. Can I find out if he knows? Can I threaten him into secrecy? No, of course not. I should ignore the situation, never give him any indication that I thought he might have seen me kissing Al on the roof. He won’t gossip, he’s not the type. God, I hope Eric doesn’t know. I’ll have to get hold of Al as soon as I get back.

 

In my agitation, I nearly blow right by Candor. I stop at the corner, tying back my hair and drinking water. Sweat is soaked into every particle of me – I hope we’ll get a shower before we do whatever’s after this. Fat chance. Eric will probably make the last one there do press ups until midnight. That’s enough to spur me on. I reattach my water pipe to my rucksack straps and pick up my gun. Put a bit of speed on now. It’s 09.30. I am over half-way back, and only halfway through the time. I should be able to stick to the 80 minute target I set myself. Speed the next fifteen minutes, then another break.

 

My thoughts wander back to Al. Even if we were seen, the kisses are still good. I’ll just have to find the cameras and make sure any further kissing is done where there are no cameras. Eric and Four seemed to like my tattoo, anyway. What was that on the train? It was like a little ambush, except without the bad intentions. Hang on.

 

The next break is now, so I swing down my rucksack and open it. Those bastards stole my snacks. What? What? Is this Dauntless initiation? Distracting the initiates and stealing their snacks? I stole those snacks from breakfast this morning for _me_. How rude. They’ll have seen me on the camera faffing about so I take a risk. I lift up the rucksack and give the camera a one-fingered salute before I swing it back on. Bastards. Utter, utter bastards. I was looking forward to those oatmeal cookies. I am now utterly determined to get back first. I’m less than five minutes away.

 

I skid to a halt by the tracks and Four looks up.

                “Stiff – 78.35.” I stalk up to him.

                “You. You stole my snacks. Those were _my_ cookies, damnit, and I wanted a snack halfway through that run.” He laughs at me.

                “Most people ask if they’re the first back.”

                “Give me back my cookies,” I counter. He hands the bag over and I peer inside. “You have eaten some.”

                “Yeah, me and Eric had one each.”

                “There’s only two left now,” I complain. “I was going to share them with Will, Al and Christina when they got back. Oh, alright as it’ll make you happy – am I the first back?”

                “Yes you are, and I am very impressed. Did you run that last bit so fast because we stole your cookies?” I scowl at him.

                “You’re a bad person,” I declare. Eric arrives then.

                “Stiff,” he says.

                “Cookie thief,” I return, stomping over the stone steps about three yards away. I sit down and break the two remaining cookies in half.

                “Is she upset with me?” Eric asks, turning to Four with an air of fake surprise.

                “We stole her cookies and she wanted to share them with her little gang. I’d steer clear.”

                “I’m not scared of the Stiff, Four.”

                “You will be!” I grumble at them. They both laugh at me, and I settle for muttering swear words at them – under my breath, so I can deny it if I have to. Peter is the next back, and doesn’t see me at first.

                “Fuck yes,” he crows, punching the air.

                “I wouldn’t celebrate too soon, Initiate,” Eric says coolly. “There are no silver medals in Dauntless.”

                “What?” Peter asks, confused. Then he sees me, and I wave cheerfully.

                “She’s been back five minutes,” Four says.

                “She must have cheated!” Peter blusters. “No fucking way I got beaten by some undersized Stiff! Check her camera!”

                “We were watching all the cameras,” Eric says coldly. “She didn’t move from her position other than to turn in a circle and assess her surroundings.”

                “Then it wasn’t a fair test. She’s a Stiff, she knows this city –“

                “Dauntless do not fucking whine on,” Eric snaps. “They grit their teeth and do better next time. If you object to her knowledge of this city, I suggest you get a map and learn it. Go over there and have a serious think about your attitude.” Peter storms off, and I bite my lip. He will not let this go, no matter what Eric and Four might say. I catch Eric looking at me and smooth my expression into one of unconcern as best as I can. As Al is third, I swiftly manage to put a smile on my face. He reports in, gets his time and then comes over to collapse next to me on the steps. I offer him half a cookie.

                “It would have been a whole cookie,” I say loudly. “But two individuals, who shall remain nameless but who are standing next to the tracks right now, stole my cookies on the train and had one each.” Al glances at them, but both of them are smiling so he obviously decides to risk it.

                “That’s so rude of those unnamed individuals.”

                “I’m glad you agree. I wanted to have a cookie mid run but no – the cookies were gone!”

                “Oh, and we saw you swear at us through the cameras.”

                “Good,” I say. “You deserved it.”

                “How did they manage it?” Al asks.

                “They got me to take off my rucksack under the pretence of looking at my tattoo. Four did the deed while I was talking to Eric about it. How did you even know I had them?” I demand.

                “Four saw you put them in your bag.”

                “I will make a note of that and next time I will make sure Four is not spying on me.”

 

One by one the others come in and to my relief; Will and Christina are fourth and fifth respectively. Molly, Drew, Edward and Myra are still nowhere to be seen and we’re past the 90 minute mark now. The four of us enjoy the down time in the sun and they both appreciate their half-cookies. Al and I relate the cookie story to them both and Christina remedies it by pulling out four apples, which we share round. We pass the time by chatting, and I try and trick them into telling me the plan for tomorrow. Eventually, Will gets me in a headlock.

                “Tris,” he says severely, while I laugh and try to kick him, “if you continue to bug us about tomorrow, all you’ll get is a severe pummelling. Got it?”

                “Got it,” I say definitely. He lets me go and I hook his feet and sit on his stomach after he hits the dust.

                “Pack it in, Initiates!” Four shouts, but he doesn’t look cross. Al drags me back onto the step beside him and Christina helps Will up.

                “That was a dirty trick, Tris,” he protests, smiling nonetheless.

                “Be on your guard then,” I retort. Before we can start another argument, our radios crackle into life.

                “Four? It’s Edward. I’ve found Molly – she’s hurt, looks like she fell down the river bank.” We all stop arguing at once, and Peter steps forward, concern on his face.

                “Where is she, Initiate?” Four asks, entirely calmly.

                “We’re about two miles from Dauntless, I think, looks like we both got lost.”

                “Where are you, street names, Faction?”

                “I  - I don’t know, I don’t know this part of the city.” Four looks frustrated and I jump up.

                “Can I speak to him?” I ask. He nods at once. I press the radio button still attached to my rucksack.

                “Edward? It’s Tris. You said you’re on the river bank. How many bridges can you see?”

                “Uh – two, one on each side. One is half complete, the east bank side is missing, the other is still complete and closed.”

                “Can you see a building with a white bottom half and a burnt top?”

                “Yes, it’s on my left, pretty much dead on.”

                “I know where he is,” I tell Four. “They’re about a mile and a half from here, due east, it’s a Factionless area – I can take you.”

                “Take Eric,” he orders. He turns to Eric. “Follow her. She’ll know the shortcuts, and you’ll get there quicker than a med team – you will, won’t you?”

                “Easily, if we run. The streets I’ll take won’t take a vehicle. Only, what about my weapon?”

                “Just this once, you can leave it with Christina and she can put it in her locker.”

                “I’ve got a tracking implant in my radio,” Eric says, holding it up. “Once we’re there I’ll activate it and the med team can use it as a guide. Tris, I assume you have your field first aid kit?”

                “Of course,” I reply. Al has already brought over my rucksack. I hoist it onto my shoulders and strap it on so it won’t rub my shoulders raw. Four nods and presses his radio button.

                “Tris and Eric are coming,” he tells Edward. “Do not leave Molly until they get to you. They’ll be less than ten minutes.” Eric nods at me.

                “Lead the way, initiate.”


	10. The Summons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris and Eric learn a little about each other and Tris presses him for information on the rankings.

_SEPTEMBER 7 TH – 17TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE ONE (AFTERNOON)_

 

Eric takes his pace from me, and I set a spanking one. Thanks to all the early morning training, I know I can maintain this for at least fifteen minutes. The streets I take are too narrow for vehicles but are the most direct route. It brings us out on the closed bridge Edward mentioned and I look downriver.

                “There,” I say, gesturing. Edward has seen us, he is waving, and I lead Eric down the safest path. “Watch my feet,” I tell him tersely. “One wrong foot and you’ll break an ankle. I’m guessing that’s what happened here – she decided to follow the banks until she came to familiar ground but set her foot on an unstable part. The banks are crumbling now.” If it rankles for him to follow my instructions, he makes no remark about it. We have no choice but to pick our way along the riverbed with caution. The heavy rain of a day ago has made a marsh of it. We reach Edward and Molly’s prone form and he kneels at once, pressing a button on his radio that makes it beep. Must be his tracker.

                “Get your med kit, Tris,” he orders. “You, Edward, are you hurt?”

                “No. I saw her on the riverbed and headed down.”        

                “Tris, leave me your rucksack, show him a safe path up the banks. Then get back here, I’ll need help. Edward, finish your run.” I show Edward where to step, mutter directions to him, then head back to Eric.

                “Tell me what to do,” I say.

                “Take these scissors, cut her trousers away over that gash.” Molly’s right shin is pouring blood, the cut deep and filthy. I hack the trousers short below her knee, slicing up the side to lay it open. He is busy pressing fresh bandages to a gash on her forehead Edward had the sense to tend to. I reach for my med kit and yank out a cotton swab and a bottle of antiseptic. I soak the swab and start cleaning the cut. The fact that she doesn’t even stir tells me she probably has concussion. “How bad?” he asks.

                “Bone,” I say. “Not broken. She must have cut it on the old railings as she fell. The head looks more like a rock.” I continue to clean the wound. She suddenly stirs, moaning faintly.

                “Stay still, initiate,” Eric says. “You’re pretty banged up.”

                “I fell,” she mutters.

                “We know. Med team are on the way. Let Tris clean your leg, that’s a nasty cut.”

                “Hold her down,” I murmur to Eric, holding up the bottle of antiseptic. He grips her, and I pour it over the cut, chase it with clean water, and she bucks and gasps. “That got it.” A vicious looking lump of aged metal has come to the surface. I get it out with tweezers and she groans.

                “Molly, I know it’s painful but trust me, it’s good that it hurts. No nerve damage,” I say. A siren cuts the air. Dauntless med team. They draw up on the river bank and I look at Eric. “Should I go and show them the way down? You’ll never get a stretcher up those banks; we’ll have to carry her.”

                “I’ll carry her,” he says, sweeping everything back into the med kit and throwing it to me. I shove it in my rucksack. I can tidy it up and restock it when we get back to Dauntless. He picks Molly up and sets her on her good foot, slinging her arm around his strong neck and shoulders. “Put your weight on me, Initiate,” he orders. “You have to walk as best as you can.”

 

She manages it. I lead them up the safe paths, stepping carefully, and at the top the med team are waiting for Molly. They take her almost unconscious form from Eric, and put her on the stretcher.

                “You two want a ride?” they ask.

                “No,” Eric says. “We can walk back.” He radios Four to that effect and then looks at me after the med team has driven off. “You don’t mind, do you?”

                “No,” I say. “It’s a nice day and at least I’m not running back. Am I? Please don’t make me run.”

                “No, I think we can walk. You’ve done well today, Initiate. First back, you helped us find Molly.”

                “You should be careful, you sound positively complimentary.” He smiles.

                “And you sound cheeky,” he responds.

                “I figure I get a pass on that today, on account of the cookie theft.”

                “Are you planning to let that go any time soon?” he asks. I turn off the main road. “Where are you going?”

                “This way is quicker,” I say. “And no, I think I will continue reminding you of the cookies for the next five years or so.”

                “You plan to remain.”

                “I don’t plan to be Factionless. And even if I do end up that way, I’ll just keep coming to visit to remind you.”

                “You’ve got some spirit, Tris.”

                “Thank you.”

                “Do you know this part of the city well?” he asks, as I scramble over a pile of rubble.

                “Fairly well,” I reply, glancing back at him as he jumps down. “It’s a fairly common haunt of the Factionless so we spent a lot of time here to feed them, give them clothes and so on.”

                “Why do Abnegation do it?”      

                “They’re human too,” I reply. “They don’t deserve to starve or freeze to death because they don’t fit in.”

                “Some would argue that they do.” I recognise it as an attempt as a genuine conversation, not antagonism.

                “I don’t believe that – and I don’t think you do either.”

                “No, I don’t.” He passes me and clambers up a pile of rubble.

                “Eric, can I ask you something – off the record?”

                “I think this walk back counts as off the record. Give me your hand – this is a difficult bit.” I reach up, and he grasps my hand tightly, helping me over the bit he mentioned. I could have done it without help and I can’t help thinking about what Al and Christina have both said about him. I pull my hand back.

                “What are my chances of being Factionless?” He doesn’t answer until we’re back on level ground.

                “We won’t determine the rankings until the morning of the 10th, Tris. I can’t tell you.”

                “Yeah but you must know if I’ve improved –“

                “If you’ve improved? Tris, what planet are you on? When you first came here, you barely said a word for three days. You couldn’t throw a punch, Four said he thought you were going to vomit when he showed you the unisex dorm room, and you couldn’t run ten meters without appearing to be dying. You can beat them all but maybe Peter in a straight fight now, you won the run this morning then still had the energy to run back to Molly with me, and I haven’t heard that you’re struggling with the mixed dorm, other than the dressing thing. You’ve improved beyond anything anyone expected of you.”

                “Including you?”

                “I did not expect you to make it past the first week.”

                “I know. I think it’s why I started working so hard. I was determined to prove you wrong. People have hated me my entire life, because of the colours I wore and the people I helped. I refused to spend my new life being hated.”

                “What made you think I hated you?” he asks, turning so abruptly I grind to a halt to stop myself from falling over him. I skirt round him and keep walking.

                “You call me Stiff. You let Peter beat seven shades of shit out of me on the third day here despite matching everyone else with equal ability. You mocked me constantly. You threw knives at me. I thought it was a fairly obvious conclusion to draw.”

                “Everyone calls you Stiff.”

                “You say it in the same way Peter says it – as an insult. And for someone who bangs on about me not being Abnegation any more, an awful lot of people seem very keen to keep reminding me.”

                “I can stop calling you Stiff.”

                “So you don’t hate me.”

                “I don’t hate you. I never hated you. You irritate me, that’s for damn sure. You’ve got a lot of attitude, and you don’t appear to have any grasp of the chain of command and you have no sense of timing. But I don’t hate you.” We’ve reached the tracks. Two minutes will bring us to the others, I can see them. “Tris, listen,” he says. “I can’t tell you anything. But it’s war games tonight – unless you fail that spectacularly, you don’t need to lose any sleep over the rankings. And keep that to yourself or the whole lot of them will be after me for information.” I nod.

                “I won’t say a word.” Four is waving at us, but he is alone now.

                “You’ve done well, Tris,” Four says when we reach him. “You can go in. As I said to the others, you’re all free now until 8 this evening, when you’ll be back here ready to board the train. You’ll need nothing beyond a jacket; all other kit will be issued. Christina put your weapon in her locker, so you’ll need to put it back in yours. Off you go.”

                “Thanks,” I say, ambling towards the doors.

 

I find the others dossing about in the dining hall and demand that Christina accompany me after the meal to put the gun back into my own locker. Al slides up the bench and makes room for me to flump down beside him.

                “How was she?” Will asks.

                “Pretty beat up,” I answer, helping myself to a hamburger. “Must have slipped on the river banks and fallen down them. The cut on her shin went down to the bone, but there was a head injury too. No idea how bad that was, Eric dealt with it. Who was last back?” I wind up, taking a bite of burger.

                “Drew, but only by seconds. Edward was just ahead of him, Myra got back about two minutes after you and Eric lit out. Four was muttering about issuing us all tracking chips for our radios.”

                “Then when all three of them admitted it was more luck than knowledge that got them back, he started muttering about putting them in the back of our necks. Then he sent us all inside – did he tell you about tonight?”

                “Yeah. I’m quite looking forward to it, even though I don’t know anything about it – what are war games?”

                “Oh, I spoke to Uriah, one of the Dauntless born – you remember Tris, we met him in the shop? – and he reckons it’s Capture the Flag.”

                “Capture the Flag? The kid’s game?” Al asks.

                “I assume this game does what it says on the tin and we have to capture a flag?” I ask, pulling an apple towards me.

                “Yeah, you split into two teams and both teams have a flag. You then work out a strategy to both guard your flag and capture the other team’s. Too competitive for Abnegation, huh?”

                “Hopscotch is too competitive for Abnegation,” I say, and they laugh at me.

                “So what shall we do for the rest of the day?” Al asks, drumming his fingers on the table. “We’ve got – seven hours.” I shrug.

                “I’ll go along with the majority as long as first, I can get a shower. I feel dirty. And then I need to pop to Medical to get them to restock my first aid kit – after I’ve tidied the God awful mess Eric made of it.”           

                “That suits us, we have things to do,” Christina announces. “Things we can’t do with you hanging around. Shall we say meet in our training room at two?” I glance at my watch. It’s 1pm.

                “Say half two,” I say cautiously. “In case Medical hold me up.”

 

The dormitory is empty, but the wet bathroom floor tells me that the others showered earlier. I strip out of my things, throwing them into the laundry chute. I can’t help the sigh that escapes when the hot water hits my skin and hair. I really did feel dirty. Molly’s blood is still under my fingernails, and I scrub at it, determined to remove every scrap of it.

 

The shower room door swings open and I thank God for the curtains.

                “Tris?”

                “Eric?” I say, astounded. “Christ, get out.”

                “I’m not coming any closer, don’t sweat it. Max wants to meet with you. He said now but –“

                “Give me five minutes to get dressed,” I sigh. “Do you happen to know where Christina is? Or Al, or Will?”

                “Will is knocking about in here,” he replies.

                “Can you tell him to tell the guys not to wait around for me? I’ll find them later!” I hear the door close and when I cautiously poke my head out the room is empty. I dry and dress at lightening speed and go out. Eric is lounging on Peter’s bed.

                “That was fast. Will says no problem and they’ll hang around the training room until you get there. This won’t be a long meeting. What else did you have to do?”

                “Tidy my med kit and then go to Medical to get it restocked.”

                “Well, like I say, this won’t be a long meeting. You ready?”

                “Is this OK?” I ask, gesturing at my outfit. It’s just clean training gear. “I mean, should I change?”

                “No, it’s just Max and he just wants to talk to you about today. Deep breaths, initiate.” I follow him up the paths of the Pit, into the glass building that forms its roof. He leads me across a bit open space, through several doors until we draw up in front of three in a neat row. One of them has Eric’s name on.

                “You’ve got an office. Fancy.” He smiles, shaking his head at me. He knocks, and opens the door for me.

                “Max? Tris for you.”

 


	11. The Unexpected Consequence of Winning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris plays Capture the Flag and ignites Eric’s fury, with unexpected results.

_SEPTEMBER 7 TH – 17TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE ONE (EVENING)_

 

8pm brings us all to the side of the tracks. We spent the afternoon mucking about in our training room, having half-arguments and stupid competitions. Four found us at one point but beyond shaking his head at us and telling us to make sure we didn’t destroy the room or each other, he left us to it. The gossip about my summons to Max’s office killed about an hour and a half. Even though all I could say was that he just wanted to say well done for the run time – fastest initiate ever, apparently – and for helping Molly, Christina insisted this needed intensive discussion and dissection. After a while I started dismantling and cleaning my weapon, and she still kept on about it. It was only when Will threw an apple core at her head that she finally shut up about it.

 

Eric and Four pick teams on the train. Four chooses me. Eric is obviously going for brawn over brains, and Four takes what he seems to think are the more subtle elements of Dauntless. Christina is on Eric’s team, and looks comically small against people like Drew and Al. I pull hideous faces at her in sympathy for her plight and she in turn loudly speculates about looks not being everything. We’re issued with vests and vicious looking darts and I hold one up to examine it.

                “What is this?” I demand of Four.

                “It’s a sim-dart. It simulates the pain of a real gunshot wound and will hurt for a few minutes after they hit you.” I raise an eyebrow.

                “So, if we get shot, we’re out?”

                “No. You’re out for as long as the pain incapacitates you. Listen, Initiates!” he bellows over the noise of chatter and the train. “The game is Capture the Flag. Eric’s team will jump first; we will jump five minutes later. The goal is as simple as it sounds – find and steal the other team’s flag. You will not get points just for shooting everything that moves, you will get points for thinking tactically and, obviously, for winning. You may capture a member of the opposing team, and you do this by shooting – Tris, come here – this circle on the front of their vest.” He fumbles with the left shoulder strap of the vests they gave us and the circle on my chest glows blue. “The colour would then change to the colour of the capturing team. Eric?”

                “Stand still, Initiate,” Eric says, and shoots me square in the circle. I brace for pain but none comes, and I look down to find the dart has harmlessly bounced off to land at my feet and the circle on my chest is now green.

                “If this had happened to Tris during the game, she would be out of the game. If you press your circle again, Tris?” I press it, and the light turns red. “Anyone with a red light is out of the game for good. You may _not_ shoot them or recapture them.”

                “The winning team is whoever captures the flag first – or whoever loses all their team members. If every member of a team is now captured, their vests will start flashing red, and Four or I will sound the recall alarm. In the entire history of this game, it’s never happened. Don’t be the first,” Eric says. “Any questions?” I look round for anyone else before I raise my hand.

                “How do I make my vest go blue again, please?”

                “Come here,” he says, and I go over. He fumbles with the strap as Four did and presses the same hidden button he did. “There you are – Four, she’s all yours again.”

                “Thank you. We’re coming up to your drop-off.”

                “Get ready!” Eric orders, marshalling his group into some sort of line. They jump, and Four turns to us.

                “Listen up. Eric has won this game for the last three years. I do not want him to win again. His tactics revolve around shooting to hurt, not shooting to capture. I can’t help you anymore, so just bear that in mind.”

 

Gathered around our drop off point, Four leads us deep into a part of the city even I am not 100% familiar with. Judging by the baffled looks around me, I’m better off than most however. Four hangs our flag from the branches of a tree.

                “Right then,” he says, turning to us. “What’s the plan?”

                “We hit them hard,” Uriah declares. “Hard and fast, before they’ll be expecting it.”

                “Then what?” Peter demands. “Once we’ve captured them all?”

                “Well that’s it, isn’t it? Why bother with the flag at all? Eric won’t expecting that, he’d be expecting a raid on the flag.”

                “Because that’s the point!”

                “No, the point is to win the game.”

                “But if we don’t know where their flag is, how will we know where to attack?” I query.

                “We draw them out.”

                “Yes, but how?” I ask, patiently.

                “We wait for them to come to us!” Uriah insists.

                “OK, so say they come to us. They aren’t going to just bust in on us, making plenty of noise. He’s got Christina and Al over there and you can bet your entire month’s pay that they will be advising being sneaky bastards,” I point out. “For all his size, Al isn’t a barging type – he’s a plotter, and Christina’s just as bad.”

                “Tris is right,” Will says. “We train with them, so we’d know. What are his Dauntless born like?”

                “Barging types,” Uriah says, grimacing. “To the last one of them. I doubt Al and Christina will be able to make themselves heard.” Will and I exchange grins.

                “You don’t know Christina. She’ll be over there right now kicking people on the shins until they listen to her,” Will says, smirking.

                “Well as you two know so much about it, what do you suggest we do?” a girl asks. I don’t recognise her, and I’m sure I would if I’d met her – her head is shaved and a tattoo curls around her left ear.

                “Find their flag, which means we need a vantage point. I can climb the Ferris wheel to get that. And I can assume Eric has chosen a place he assumes to be defensible, so I am assuming it’s somewhere high – probably the top of the old water building over there.”

                “Is that accessible?” the girl asks.

                “Yes it is. There’s a flight of stairs inside it. They’re crumbling and probably very unsafe but it can be done.”

                “You’ve climbed them, haven’t you?” Four asks, the first thing he’s said since we got off the train.

                “I might have, in the dim and distant past. Once. Perhaps several times. It’s not important, shall I climb the Ferris wheel or not?”

                “Nobody else has a decent idea,” Marlene suddenly speaks, smiling at me. “Off you pop. We’ll stand guard for now.”

                “I’ll be as quick as I can,” I promise. I skitter off. I have to climb to the dead centre of the wheel before I see it. I was right – the green glow of Eric’s flag is lighting the top of the old water building. I turn to look down and see two green dots moving towards our tree. I make my decision quickly. If I call out, they are more likely to bolt than attack and we will have lost a valuable opportunity to capture or incapacitate two of their members. I kneel on the platform and take careful aim.

 

One dot turns blue; the other gives a cry of pain and goes down. This obviously attracts the attention of my own group and two blue dots detach. The second green circle turns blue, then both go red. I get down as quickly as I can, by which time the captives have been brought into camp.

                “Drew and Molly,” Will whispers. “Peter’s so pissed off.” Four grins at me.

                “That was some of the finest shooting I have ever seen, Initiate.”

                “Figured shouting would just send them running,” I say.

                “First blood to Tris. Did you find their flag?” Uriah asks, grinning at me.

                “Yeah, it’s on top of the water building. It wasn’t flickering, so I believe Eric has set guards only at the base of the tower.”

                “Is there only one way in?” Marlene asks, eagerly.

                “Eric will think there is,” I say, smirking. “But it is possible to get in through a window on the first floor of the tower.”

                “How do you know all this?”

                “I spent a certain amount of my childhood sneaking off.”

                “So how do you get in?” Uriah demands, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

                “There’s a tree behind the tower. It’s old as hell and the branches are rotting, but if you tread carefully one brushes the window. The window itself has no glass in it. If I could get through it, I can creep up the stairs and get the flag.”

                “What do the rest of us do?” Marlene asks.

                “Distract the guards. Uriah suggested it. There’s a group of old containers about ten meters away from that tower. You could get onto the tops and shoot from there. If you lie on your fronts, they might not see your circles until it’s too late.”

                “Will you need help?”

                “I’ll need someone to boost me into the tree. And a guard might be helpful.”

                “I’ll come,” Will offers but I have to shake my head.

                “You’re too short,” I explain. “Ideally, you’d come,” I say, addressing the girl with the shaved head. She shrugs.

                “I’m game,” she says.

 

The girl’s name is Lynn. We pull up near the back of the water tower and I peer around a tree. Nobody is at the back of the tower and to my relief, the tree is still there.

                “You wanna go?” Lynn whispers.

                “Wait for the others,” I murmur. “And he might have assigned someone to patrol the base of the tower. We should watch.”

                “We should climb a tree each,” she replies. “We’d be hidden more and we could snipe from them if we had to.” I fall in with this plan at once and she gives me a boost into the nearest tree before finding her own. We lie in wait, but in the ten minutes we sit tight, nobody rounds the back of the tower. As far as I’m concerned, this is confirmation that Eric doesn’t know about the second entrance into his fortress. He assumes that any attack from behind the tower would be suicide, because the element of surprise wouldn’t last and the massacre would begin. Suddenly, guns start firing and I signal to Lynn, dropping out of my tree at once with Lynn following suit. We run over the brief stretch of open ground and she boosts me up.

 

The branch that leads into the window is dangerously rotten. I edge along as quickly as I dare, and have to dive rather than climb through the window. I immediately assume a defensive position, holding my breath lest someone heard me and comes raging along. But nobody comes, and I stick my head out of the window.

                “I’m going to join the others,” Lynn hisses. I nod and withdraw, watching her skirt around the building. It’s the best thing she can do – they will assume, hopefully, that she is alone and part of a distraction mission. I go carefully up the stairs. Even if every single one of the others is captured, the recall siren will not sound while the circle on my chest still glows blue. I must remain silent – Eric will almost certainly have posted a guard outside the room with the flag, a last line of defence if the guards outside fall. If they hear me coming, I’ve got no chance – the second I come into sight I’ll probably get darted in the face. The stairs are crumbling, ragged, any handrail long since gone. I stay low, taking it one step at a time. When I reach the last turn in the stairs I stop to listen. Sure enough, I can hear heavy footsteps above me on a wooden floor, and a gun firing. Whoever it is, is sniping at the players on the ground. I take the last few steps in absolute silence, barely daring to breathe.

 

In the sickly green light of the flag, I recognise Eric himself. I’m reluctantly impressed – I would have thought he’d be on the ground, in the thick of things. It must be killing him to be so out of things. The question now is what do I do? Do I make a dash for the flag, try to grab it and hope he doesn’t hear me? Do I shoot him in the shoulder, hope it incapacitates him enough to stop him shooting me when he turns and shoot the circle? Or do I call out, and when he turns shoot him in the circle and hope I can do it quickly enough to stop him shooting me? Or do I try and get into the room, taking a stone from the stairs and throw it down the stairs when I’m hidden, in the hope it draws him to the stairs, enabling me to grab the flag and win the game?

 

The fourth option. I find a handy stone, and creep into the room. He doesn’t react. I take careful aim and throw. The stone clatters down the stairs like a thunderstorm, and he turns at once. He goes immediately to the head of the stairs, his back to the room and therefore his flag. I grab it at once and rush to the balcony. He hears that well enough and looks livid. I wave the flag like a madwoman and suddenly the guns fall silent. Someone shouts.

                “It’s Tris!”

                “Go Tris!” I laugh out loud and wave to them all. Suddenly a hand comes down on my shoulder and I turn to Eric. The rage in his eyes surprises me, and I shrink back a little.

                “That’s cheating,” he hisses. I snort.

                “No, that’s tactics.”

                “Tris, come down!” Four shouts. “Bring the flag.”             

                “You coming?” I ask, despite the fact that he’s still got hold of my arm. He lets go abruptly, turning for the stairs. God, the mood swings on this guy are ridiculous. He’ll get over it eventually. I follow him down the stairs and out the door. Four heads the crowd coming towards us.

                “Good girl,” he says approvingly. I hand him the flag.

                “Here you are – glad I could help break your losing streak,” I say, loudly enough for Eric to hear. I think for a minute he might just shoot me anyway but he manages to restrain himself.

                “Everyone back to the train,” he spits, voice shaking with rage. Four raises his eyebrows and despite everyone wanting to talk to me, he holds me back a bit so we’re almost alone.

                “What did you do?” he asks. I relate what happened at the top of the tower, leaving nothing out. I tell him what Eric said.

                “Did I cheat?” I ask. “I’ve never played this game – have I managed to cheat?”

                “Not at all. It’s unconventional and it’s subtle and you know Eric by now – or you should. He doesn’t do subtle.” I chew my lip. “What’s worrying you?” Four asks gently.

                “Will this cost me points?” He gives a snort of laughter.

                “Absolutely not. Fortunately, Eric isn’t the only one who does the rankings, so you’ll be absolutely fine. Try not to worry about it.” He pats my shoulder. “Come on, we should catch up to the others.”

 

We do, but when the train comes and everyone jumps onto the front carriage, Eric deliberately stops me, forcing us both into the last carriage – four away from the others. I take a deep breath and thank God I’ve still got the gun. Even if they aren’t real bullets, twenty sim-darts to the face will probably stop him if he does try killing me.

                “What the fuck was that shit, Initiate?” he snarls. I look up at him and make my eyes as wide as I can.

                “Tactics. I didn’t really want to shoot you.”

                “Why?” And suddenly, in a blinding flash of realisation, I understand what he’s so pissed about. If I’d shot him, it would have been an understandable victory. Because I tricked him and stole the flag without doing so, I have embarrassed him.

                “It wasn’t necessary. This isn’t about me winning – this is about your pride.” He advances on me. I do not move. To back away would be weakness, it would show him that he has intimidated me and I’ll be damned if I give him the bloody satisfaction. “If I’d shot you,” I continue, “you would have been able to explain it. But because I didn’t, you think I humiliated you.”

                “This is nothing to do with my pride, you jumped-up little –“

                “Go on,” I goad. “Hit me, if it’ll make you feel better. My ear’s still weak – go for that. Hit me!” He doesn’t hit me. He picks me up by the vest straps and slams me against the wall of the carriage. “Go on,” I continue, wondering even as I do what madness is possessing me. There’s a familiar feeling crawling in my stomach. I refuse to consider what it is. “Hit me,” I hiss, kicking at his legs. “Hit me!” I scream. But that isn’t what he does.

 

He kisses me.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we'll leave it there for today!
> 
> I hope you're all enjoying the story thus far - still to come is a fateful game of Capture the Flag and Tris' first ever birthday.


	12. The Dauntless Invasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric and Tris share some fireworks, and Al directs Tris towards some professional assistance...

_SEPTEMBER 7 TH – 17TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE ONE (NIGHT)_

 

I kiss him back without even thinking about it, wrapping my legs around him and pulling him in. His kisses are nothing like Al’s, he doesn’t wait for me to warm up to it and ask tentative permission. He invades me, surrounds me and rams his hips into mine. He’s hard, I realise with a primeval thrill. Hard as a fucking rock, pressing against me in a way that draws a gasp from me. His hands leave my vest to hook under my thighs to push me even closer to him, and I put my own arms around his shoulders, dragging my nails through the short hair at the nape of his neck. He lets go of one leg to wrap my hair around his fist, dragging my head to the side, his lips moving to burn a path down my throat, lips rough against my skin, the pain of the pull on my hair darting down to my belly to pool there. I moan aloud, my hips pressing forward without any instruction from me and that’s unsurprising – the only logical explanation for what is happening here is that my brain has short-circuited and is no longer in charge. Some instinct must be driving me – driving us both.

 

The feel of his teeth on my neck makes me cry out, and I clasp a hand in the longer hair on his crown, dragging his mouth back to mine, somehow determined to show that I am in some semblance of control here, that I am kissing him as much as he is kissing me, that I want this as much as he does. And I do. I am on fire, my heart slamming away inside my chest in a way that might raise alarm if I were thinking at all, a desperation growing inside me that pressing forward does not relieve, just makes worse and I am burning up in Eric’s arms like a bonfire and surely, surely he must know that I am crawling out my skin with red-hot, incandescent desire.

 

He breaks the kiss, just as he started it, ripping his mouth from mine and resting our foreheads together, his breathing sounding as ragged as mine feels.

                “I hate you,” he mutters, the words thick and slow.

                “No you don’t,” I counter, seeking his lips again. He gives them to me, lets me kiss him, gentler now.

                “I do. You fucking – you are so annoying.” There’s still heat to his words, but nothing remains of the rage he had before he kissed me.

                “That the best you can do?” I taunt, because really – annoying? Annoying is a child repeating ‘mom, mom, mom’ over and over again to get attention. Annoying is a bug bite you can’t reach to scratch.

                “Don’t push me,” he warns, pulling his head away from mine. He doesn’t put me down. He’s still hard, and I realise with a little thrill that now, I do hold all the power. The deck is stacked in my favour here.

                “Or what?” I ask, pressing my hips forward. He groans aloud.

                “You’re playing with a fire you don’t understand, Tris.”

                “Then put me down,” I point out. “You’re the one still holding me.” He takes a deep breath and rips himself away. I nearly stumble it’s so abrupt, but manage to regain my balance in time. He moves away, the opposite wall acting as his sanctuary and I drift my eyes down. The training trousers hide nothing, I can see him.

                “Enjoying the view?” he asks.

                “Yes,” I reply, with all the honesty of a Candor. “Very much so.” I push myself off my own wall and adjust my clothes, hoping to God he can’t see that my hands are shaking. I need Al. I need to ask him what’s wrong with me. “If that’s all, I think I’ll go and join the others.” And before he can stop me or speak, I open the connecting door and walk through the empty carriages.

 

Will sees me first.

                “There she is!” he shouts. “Yes, Tris, come here!” I go over, accepting high fives and hugs and throw myself down next to Christina.

                “What happened?” she asks, accepting my hug. “Did you and Eric miss the jump?”

                “Misjudged it. Then he kept ranting on and on about me beating him so I had to have a bit of an argument about it.”

                “Can’t believe you won,” she grumbles. “Beaten by a Stiff. We’ll never live this down.”

                “Eric’s so mad, it’s hilarious,” I say, quietly enough so only she can hear. A pair of legs invades our vision and we look up to see Four.

                “Up you jump. We’re getting off.”

 

Four dismisses us to whatever devices we may see fit to pursue and when I glance back to the tracks, I see him getting hold of Eric by the collar and dragging him away. I have to wonder what that’s about, but I have more pressing concerns. I grab Al’s arm, pulling him back a little. Swept up on adrenaline and laughter, the others don’t even notice.   

                “Hey beautiful,” he says, swinging an arm around my shoulders and smiling down at me. “You’ve had a cracking day.”

                “I know,” I say. “Have I impressed you?”

                “You always impress me. What can I do for you?”

                “I have – personal questions, and I don’t want to – I was hoping –“

                “Like, kissing practice personal questions?” he asks, smiling at me.

                “Yeah. But – a bit more – intimate. If you don’t want to, I can ask Christina –“

                “No, I said I’d help you and I meant it. You can ask me anything.”

                “Can we go somewhere private?”

                “I know just the place.”

 

We end up on a rock beneath the path running by the Chasm. The roar of the water will hide our words unless we shout them, and it means we have a reason to put our heads close together. It has the added bonus of being shielded from the path – unless someone climbs the barrier and then leans right over, we can’t be seen.

                “So,” he says, opening his arms and smiling. “Come here.” I crawl into his arms and rest my head on his chest. He wraps me up tight and I sigh happily, cuddling in. “What can I help you with?” he asks, resting his chin on my head.

                “I don’t really know how to explain. Remember when we kissed on my bed that first time? And you said we had to stop because you were getting too excited?”

                “I remember.”

                “What did you mean?” He shifts awkwardly. “Sorry, that was too personal.”

                “You got to stop apologising for asking me this stuff,” he says. “I said you could ask, I meant it, and if I change my mind about being your sex education guru I will let you know.” I snort with laughter. “I meant that I was getting aroused. I didn’t want you to freak out or feel like I wanted more from you than you were ready to give.”

                “Thank you,” I say, craning my neck to press my lips to his jaw.

                “Was that your question?” he asks gently.

                “No – not entirely, anyway. When we kissed, it’s like – I feel – warm, here,” I say, pressing my hand to my belly.

                “Tris, you’re getting aroused,” he says, stroking my hair with one big hand. “Remember I told you about girl’s needing to be excited, and foreplay? That’s what you’re feeling. Do you – do anything about it?”

                “There’s – I can do something about it?” I say, blankly.

                “Tris, please don’t take this as offensive, because that really isn’t how I mean it – but Abnegation has a lot to answer for. Does nobody masturbate?”

                “That’s what it’s called? No, and if they do, they don’t talk about it.”

                “Right, then I’m out of my depth. Come with me,” he says, pulling me up. “There’s somewhere I need to take you.”

 

He leads me up the paths of the Pit to the highest level of shops. Nobody else is on this level, and there are only three shops – one selling liquor, one selling what looks like “alternative” home decor and one with curtains over the windows.

                “Oh, Al, I think this place is closed,” I say, gesturing at the curtains. He laughs and shakes his head.

                “It’s fine. Now, I want you to promise you’ll keep an open mind, OK? But if you are uncomfortable, or freaked out, please tell me and we can leave. Ready?” I glance at the shop again.

                “It’s a sex shop, isn’t it?” I ask, bluntly.

                “Yes. And there’s a woman in there who will absolutely be able to help you out. I can leave you to do it alone, if you prefer?”

                “I do prefer,” I mutter. “See me in, though – if you walk away now I might just scarper.” He grins and pushes me forward.

                “Do feel free to show me anything you buy later on,” he says. “I’d be more than happy to help if you need that too.” I laugh and shove him away.

                “You’ll be the first,” I promise. I take a deep breath, put my hand on the handle, and push open the door, stepping inside.

 

The light is subdued, but it isn’t dark inside. There’s music playing through a hidden stereo system and a woman who I would put at around forty is behind a counter, going through a ledger. She looks up and smiles at me. I’m instantly at ease – the smile is so warm and openly friendly, more Amity than Dauntless.

                “Welcome,” she says. “I’m Carin. You’re a new face – are you one of the new initiates?”

                “Yeah,” I say. “Um, I’m Tris.”

                “First time in a place like this?” she asks kindly.

                “I was Abnegation,” I say, and she nods, understanding blossoming across her face.

                “I see. Well, my dear, you don’t need to look _quite_ so terrified. I don’t bite. Can I help you find something, or would you like to look around by yourself first?”

                “Can I look around?” I ask.

                “Of course you may. And feel free to touch things – these are only the display models. Anything you may decide to buy from me will come in a box, untouched and sealed. Lingerie is in the back room, through that door, and in that corner,” she says, pointing to the back corner opposite her desk, “you’ll find what could be called the beginner items. Please just call to me if you need anything explaining.”

                “Thanks. I’ll let you know.” I start with the walls closest to me but quickly get very unnerved by sizes and shapes and shoot over to the beginner’s corner. I feel on safer ground here, the items smaller and less intense-looking. There’s a little stand with shiny metal things on that are shaped like bullets, and I take one to examine it closely. There’s a little black button on the base, and I press it curiously. I gasp when the thing starts to vibrate in my hands. What the hell am I meant to do with this? I press the button again, and now it feels like it’s pulsing. I press a final time and it goes still, looking entirely innocent. I replace it gingerly and turn to a stand holding what appear to be eggs and spoons held together by string. This too has a little button on it, and when I press it, the egg begins to pulse and the little spoon to buzz. There’s little booklets here, I notice, and I pick one up curiously. My eyes just about drop out of my head when I see the pictures. Apparently the egg goes inside and the little spoon presses along the outside and stimulates one’s clitoris. I did biology like everyone else at school, so at least I know what everything down there is _called_.

 

I distract myself with examining a little display of what are obviously rubber penises. I assume this is self-explanatory – tab A into slot B, as it were. Upon further investigation, I find that several of these also vibrate, pulse and in one case, spin. I’m so far out of my depth it’s hilarious.

                “Carin?” I say, turning towards the desk. “I have questions.”

                “Certainly,” she says, coming over. “What can I help with?”

                “What are those?” I ask, pointing at the metal bullet-type things.

                “Those are bullet vibrators. They’re a very good starter item, because they are small and the vibrations aren’t too intense. They’re designed to stimulate the clitoris directly.” I nod. Carin is like Al – she explains things clearly and simply, and without any embarrassment. It is easy to ask her these questions for that exact reason.

                “And those?” I ask, gesturing at the egg-and-spoon thing. “I mean, I looked at the little booklet but –“

                “These are called Flutters. The egg goes just inside the vagina and stimulates the G-spot, while the arm of the vibrator rests on the clitoris. It’s a slightly more intense stimulant and provides a more intense orgasm.”

                “I see. Now – these are pretty much self-explanatory.” I gesture at the wall of rubber penises. “Do they have a specific name?”

                “Dildos. They’re for simulating the actual act of sex. Most women use them in conjunction with a clitoral vibrator as very few women can come from penetration alone.” I nod, mind whirling.

                “And those?” I ask, pointing to a selection of small, hollow cones with differing arrangements of bumps and dots and ridges on them.

                “Those are finger enhancers,” she says. “They can be used by oneself, or by a partner – they’re slipped on over the index and/or middle fingers and enhance the sensation.” I nod.

                “And for someone who has never – masturbated before, or had – had an orgasm – what would you recommend?”

                “The bullet vibrator, most definitely. As I said, it’s small, and the vibrations are not too violent. Additionally, they have the advantage of only stimulating the clitoris, which is – as a general rule – a less intense orgasm than a G-spot or combination orgasm. I would also recommend the purchase of some lubricant and one of the _How To_ guides we stock with the lingerie in the back room. They’re excellent books – they tell you everything you need to know about your body, about how to find what feels good, what angles to use to find your G-spot and what it feels like to your fingers, so you’ll know it when you feel it. I would especially recommend _How to Explore_ and _A History of Female Masturbation_. I would perhaps recommend one of the finger enhancers; depending on how brave the individual was feeling. Do you want to have a look at the lingerie and the books?”

 

She takes me through the lingerie, explaining what some of it is meant to allow and why some of it is so revealing.

                “Some lingerie is purely decorative,” she says, laughing when I hold up something made entirely of thin strips of silk. “It isn’t meant to be practical. But there’s no reason why a girl can’t wear pretty underwear while also having it be practical.” She shows me several bra and panty sets, and in the end I choose two sets, one in white and one in black. I pick up the two books she recommends and she helps me pick out a finger enhancer with raised dots on it, and one of the bullet vibrators. “I’ll throw in the lubricant for free,” she says, tucking three bottles into the box she has packed my purchases into. This goes into a plain black bag and she hands it to me. “That little lot comes to fifteen points.” I hand over my card and she swipes it through. “Perfect. Do you have any other questions?”

                “No. Carin, honestly, you’ve been so nice and so helpful. Thank you so much – and thank you so much for the lubricant, too. That’s sweet of you.”

                “No problem at all, my dear. Any time you want to come back, feel free. I’d be happy to help you further.” I slip out, and consult my watch. It’s damn near midnight. I wonder what time she closes? I hope I didn’t keep her back.

 

At least the lateness of the hour means that when I do get back to the dorm, everyone else is either asleep or doing a damn good impression of it. I hide the bag in my drawers and slip out of my clothes. I don’t bother with the bathroom. I slip into bed and settle down, bundling the pillow into its usual shape.

 

It doesn’t take long to fall asleep.


	13. The Birthday Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris’ birthday dawns and she finds herself apparently abandoned by her fellow initiates, leading her to establish a place among the Dauntless-born.

_SEPTEMBER 8 TH – 18TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE ONE (MORNING)_

 

The first thing I notice when I wake up is the silence. I check my watch. Six, my usual time. I sit up and look round. The room is empty. Where the hell is everyone? I throw back the covers and fly for the bathroom. God, have I missed a memo? Did we have early training? Bloody hell, Eric is going to kill me. No time to shower, splash water on my face and brush teeth then dressed as quick as you like.

 

The training room is empty too. Oh fuck, they’ve gone shooting or running. Balls, balls, balls. I’m screwed. Forget throwing knives at a target while I stand in front of it, Eric will probably make me run up and down in front of the shooting targets. But they aren’t anywhere. Nobody is at the shooting range other than a guard, who tells me there’s no shooting training booked for today at all. He hasn’t seen Four or Eric either. I ask every guard I meet. Nobody has any record of initiates being booked on a city run or any run outside the Dauntless buildings. None of them have seen either Four or Eric since last night – although a guard I run into on the path by the Chasm tells me that they were up on the roof having a hell of a row at around midnight, apparently. Interesting, although the guard in question can’t tell me what it was about.

                “No idea,” he says, shaking his head. “All I know is that Eric was pacing up and down and shouting things like ‘I’ve cocked it up’ and Four was yelling at him that he was a ‘complete tool’. Wouldn’t have minded knowing what it was all about to be honest, it’s not every day you see Eric in that much of a state. Sorry I can’t help with where they are, but if I see either of them I can tell them you’re looking for them?”

                “No, no, don’t worry about that,” I say quickly. “It isn’t important and I’ll see them at training later anyway.”

                “No bother,” the guard says, moving away. I drum my fingers on the rail guarding the drop into the cavern. Well, there’s nothing I can do. If I have missed training, I’ll just have to suck it up and apologise, taking whatever consequences it might come with. I’ll get breakfast and then go to the training room at the normal time. They’ll be back by then, surely. If nobody shows up, I’ll just have to bite the bullet and go to Lauren to ask her if she knows what the hell is going on.

 

Nobody is at breakfast either, and I consume my usual meal of eggs, toast and a bran muffin growing more and more confused. I can’t even see Uriah, or Marlene, or Lynn, or any of the Dauntless born. I have definitely missed a memo and I am definitely in an astounding amount of trouble. I rack my brains, trying to remember if anyone said anything yesterday, or on the train home from Capture the Flag. But of course, I wasn’t with the others – what if Four gave out the memos then and just assumed Eric would have told me? And if the others assumed the same and therefore didn’t bother to mention it? But no, surely if that had happened, the others would have been complaining about the early start after the late night? I push the bran muffin away from me. It’s nearly eight in the morning, so I wander down towards the training room.

 

Still empty. I cross to my locker and open it. Nobody has slipped in any notes and nothing is taped to front either. I search the entire room and there’s nothing, no indication that we either do or don’t have training. I take a seat on the benches and wait, planting my elbows on my knees to watch the clock tick onto the quarter past the hour. Sod it, that’s it, I’m going to Lauren. The worst that can happen with her is that I’ll end up looking a bit silly. It’s the wrath of Eric and Four I’ll have to worry about. I poke my head into the Dauntless born room, and thank Christ people are actually there. I was starting to wonder if I was hallucinating. Lauren sees me first and comes over, smiling at me. She’s a lot friendlier than Four and Eric, but then again I suppose training Dauntless born is easier. If you listen to Four’s mutterings, we’re a heartbeat away from driving him into thinking Factionless is more attractive than continuing to put up with us.

                “Hello, Tris,” she says, pleasantly. “Have you come with a message?”

                “No,” I say, bewildered now. “I’m here because I can’t find anyone. There’s nobody in our training room, and there was nobody in our dorm when I woke up this morning. I’m starting to think I’ve missed a memo about something. Four’s going to kill me – do you have any idea what he had scheduled this morning? At least if I know I could go and find them and start apologising.” She looks as baffled as I feel.

                “You can’t find anyone at all? All the training schedule said this morning was that you people had boxing, and that it was obviously in your training room.” She slips out, ushering me back into the corridor. “They’ll be fine without me for a minute. Come on,” she says, going back down the corridor to our own room. She swings the door open and I’m oddly grateful it’s still empty. I would have looked like an absolute lunatic if we’d come back and they’d suddenly all appeared. She’s frowning. “Have you looked for a note or anything like that?” she asks. I nod.

                “First thing I did. And this morning – I normally get up early and do some punching or something – I woke up in an empty dorm room. No notes. So I wandered round a while, checking places like the shooting range and the track, and asking all the guards I came across and nobody’s seen anyone since last night.” Lauren scowls.

                “Look, I have no bloody idea what they’re all playing at but I’ve never heard you’re the type to be late or miss messages or memos. You’d better train with us until lunchtime, and then I’ll run up to Max’s office to see what the hell is going on. And don’t worry about getting into trouble, I’ll vouch for you.”

 

So I join the Dauntless born for training, all of whom are as baffled as I am. I find, to my surprise and no small amount of pleasure, that I’m not the worst one in here. Maybe Eric was right, and I don’t have anything to worry about. Assuming that still applies, anyway. Right before lunch, Lauren calls me and Uriah to practise our sparring.

                “Don’t actually hit each other,” she instructs, watching us critically. “Just practise your styles. Uriah, watch how Tris keeps her elbows up and her face shielded.” She yells out movements and we practise. It’s inevitable that some of the blows land but as we aren’t punching in earnest none of them really hurt or mark. She dismisses us for lunch an hour later and I go with Uriah and Marlene at their invitation.

                “I wonder what’s happened to the others,” I say. “Look, you were born Dauntless – if I had missed some training, someone would have come to get me, wouldn’t they?”

                “Absolutely,” Uriah says. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, you would have got the bollocking to end all bollockings but someone would have been sent to find you. I’m as baffled as you are. Did Lauren go and see if she could find out what was going on?”

                “She said she would, she said I should join on your training session and then at lunch she’d go to Max to ask him.” We eat lunch and about half-way through the break Lauren returns.

                “Tris – I found Max and he says he isn’t sure what happened this morning. He confirmed that all transfer initiates should have been in their gym this morning, and he is trying to get hold of Four or Eric to read them the riot act about making sure they have everyone before doing a disappearing act. He also said that for this afternoon, you can count it as free time. I’d grab a shower while there’s nobody bitching at you to get out because they also need a shower. I remember what initiate dorms can be like. If this leaves you wondering what the hell to do with yourself, I highly recommend you check out the Pit Room – it’s behind the training rooms, just follow the blue arrows. It’ll be empty from 1.30 so you could have a good mosey.”

                “Oh thanks Lauren. I’m starting to get a bit antsy about all this – Eric will have me whipped at dawn if I’ve missed training. What’s the Pit Room?” I ask.

                “Oh I wouldn’t worry, he’s not really the whipping type,” she answers with a grin. “More the caning type, with fifty press ups thrown in for the extra touch of sadism in the early morning.” Uriah and Marlene laugh. “And the Pit Room is like our function room – the party for the end of Stage One training will be in there and it’s always worth checking those places out so you know where the quiet spots and the loos are. You two,” she says, pointing at Uriah and Marlene, “are not so lucky, and are obliged to report back at 1pm sharp. Now, I’m off to get some lunch.” She walks off and Marlene pulls a hideous face.

                “Wish I got the afternoon off because my group had gone off on a jaunt without me,” she grumbles.

                “Be that as it may, we’d best be off anyway,” Uriah says. “It’s quarter to now and you know when Lauren gives a time to be somewhere she means at least five minutes before. Enjoy your free time Tris!”

 

I probably would enjoy it if I wasn’t entirely on my own. I take Lauren’s advice though, and have a long, luxurious shower. I even dare to dress in the middle of the deserted dorm and choose to wear the black set of underwear I brought from Carin’s shop last night, underneath the black jumpsuit I brought when I heard that conversation. Looks like Peter was right and Eric does have some kind of bizarre thing for me. Not that I’ll ever be telling him that. I slip into the shoes the assistant picked out and examine myself in the mirror. I don’t look over dressed to be wandering around – I’ve seen far more revealing and dressy outfits around Dauntless. I just look casual. As an afterthought I leave my hair down. Might as well. If I get so bored that I decide I want to do some running or whatever, I can always change, and anyway I’m sick of constantly wearing the training clothes. Might as well be back in Abnegation if I’m going to wear the same thing day in, day out.

 

I wander around aimlessly for about fifteen minutes but end up deciding to try and find this Pit Room. Even if I’m not here for the party, I can tell the others where to go. The blue arrows direct me down the corridor running between the training rooms and brings me out on a corridor running left to right in front of me. I turn left, and come to a door made of heavy metal. A stone set in the wall bears carved words reading “Pit Room.” I scowl at it for a moment. This would be a lot more fun with company. I push open the door and go in. It’s shadowy, but enough light angles in through windows set high up in the walls to see a bit. My feet echo on the stone floor and I trail round the edges of the room, finding the little alcoves carved into it with sofas and low tables in them. I’ll be bagging one of those if I get the chance. A black curtain covers the back wall and I trail my fingers along it until my hand snags on a divide. I take a side in each hand and pull them apart.

                “Surprise!” I shriek in shock, physically jumping with the sudden noise. “Happy birthday Tris!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two chapters today, as the next few chapters are best done in a chunk and need some refinement. 
> 
> Hope you all continue to enjoy it!


	14. Impertinent Questions, Dauntless Style

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris experiences her first birthday party and practises some flirting with an unsuspecting Eric.

_SEPTEMBER 8 TH – 18TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE ONE (AFTERNOON)_

 

Christina steps out of the crowd gathered in the small, narrow room the curtain has helped to form, a smile lighting up her entire face, laughter alive in her eyes, drink in hand.

                “We were starting to think you were never coming!” she says. “Are you very cross with us?”

                “What is this?” I ask, looking round. The Dauntless born are here, Uriah laughing and Lauren looking slightly sheepish. Will, Al, even Peter and his group – everyone. Max is even here, standing to one side with Four. And then, right at the back – Eric.

                “This is a surprise party!” she says, pulling me forward. “I said I’d do something for your birthday.”

                “I thought you meant you’d get a cake for dinner!” I protest, laughing now as I understand. “Not this!”

                “Do you like it?” she demands, looking slightly anxious. I hasten to reassure her.

                “Of course I do! I never imagined this is what you were all doing – God, I thought I was missing training and that Eric and Four would have me publically flogged.” Four laughs at that, coming forward with a smile, Max just behind him.

                “Happy birthday, Initiate. And we would never publically flog you.” Lauren is approaching, still looking slightly sheepish.

                “Hello Tris. I’m so sorry, you poor thing – they made me promise not to give it away if you came to me looking for them all.”

                “And may I say, I am impressed you did go after Lauren, and didn’t just go on a jaunt after you found yourself abandoned,” Max says. He stretches out a hand to shake mine. “Happy birthday.”

                “Thank you,” I say, utterly baffled by it all. People seem to take that as a hint, and start coming up to wish me a happy birthday, or many happy returns. I’m hugged and kissed by people, going round the room in a whirl, laughing all the time. Eventually, the sweep of people brings me up to Eric. I glance round. People are talking in groups; nobody is close enough to hear us. “Thank you,” I murmur quietly. “For letting Christina plan this and giving them all the day off training.”

                “My pleasure, Tris,” he returns, a little stiffly. “Happy seventeenth birthday.”

                “Thank you,” I say. Then I do something a little wicked. “Do you like my outfit?” He inhales deeply, looking at me.

                “It’s – very nice. You look very nice.”

                “I thought so,” I say complacently. “Of course,” I say, coy now, “it’s a little more revealing than my normal attire. Someone told me that I should get more comfortable with showing off some skin. Do I pass the assignment?” His eyes close briefly, then he smiles at me dangerously.

                “Half marks, Initiate,” he says coolly, eyes sweeping over me from head to toe and back again, lingering on my chest. “Could do better.”

                “Challenge accepted – sir.” Christina summons me then, and pushes me onto a chair someone has brought from somewhere and placed in the middle of the room.

                “Sit there, and sit still. We’re going to play a game – you’ll be blindfolded, and then five people will be chosen. Without them speaking, and without being able to see, you have to guess who they are. If Tris guesses right,” she says, explaining to the room now, “we must all take a drink. If she guesses wrong – she does a shot.”

                “A shot?” I ask, confused. “I’ll be blindfolded, I don’t think it’s safe to fire a weapon –“

                “Tris, God – a shot is a drink of liquor. Don’t worry – we aren’t going to give you whiskey. It’s just rum. Are you ready?” she asks me.

                “Yes,” I say. She produces a length of cloth and moves behind me to bind my eyes. “Is this traditional at parties?” I query of her.

                “Absolutely. Party games are a vital element to all good parties. Don’t worry; you won’t always be our victim. Can you see anything?”

                “Not a thing.” I hear them place another chair in front of me, hear someone sit down.

                “You can reach out, touch the person – that’s how you’re meant to find out who they are,” Christina says, touching my shoulder. “They’re right in front of you.” I reach out blindly, slowly because I’m scared my questing fingers will end up poking someone’s eye out. I come into contact with someone, taking wrists first. I let my hands slide up their arms and when I get to the shoulders I smile under the blindfold. I know who this is. But just for fun, I let my fingers reach their face before I say it.

                “That’s Al,” I say, and people boo.

                “I told you I’d be too obvious,” Al’s voice says, laughing.

 

The next one isn’t so obvious, and I frown, stroking over nose and eyes, finding hair under my fingers and stroking through it to assess length. Chin length and straight, which gives me three choices – Myra, Marlene or Molly. I am certain Molly wouldn’t let me do this, so it’s either Myra or Marlene.

                “Myra?” I say, uncertainly.

                “Wrong!”

                “Is it Marlene?” I ask.

                “It is, but as that wasn’t your first guess – here you are!” Someone hands me a glass, small and apparently brimful, given that some of the liquid spills onto my fingers.

“Someone’s going to have to help,” I say. Christina’s laugh reaches my ears and I assume it is her fingers that wrap around mine and pull my hand towards my mouth.

“Down in one,” I’m informed. I open up obediently and swallow the liquid, gasping and spluttering as it burns down.

                “Fucking hell!” I gasp out. “What the hell was that?”

                “We told you – rum. Next player!”

                “Wait, wait, there’s rum all over my hand,” I say, giggling. “Is there a towel?”

                “Just wipe it on your leg, it’s clear and it won’t stain.” I obey, and someone else sits down. I have to give it up completely. It could be any number of people.

                “I don’t know! The best I can do is it’s either Peter or Will,” I say despairingly.

                “Oi,” the person says and with a groan I realise it’s actually Edward. “That is deeply, deeply insulting.”

                “Sorry,” I say. Another glass is placed in my hand and this time I’m able to throw it back under my own steam. “Oh, it’s vile, it’s so vile!” I say, shuddering. There are laughs and someone else is forced down into the chair. “I think – Lynn?”

                “A-ha, Uriah, she thinks you’re a girl!” I take the third shot, my throat feeling oddly numb now.

                “This is the last one,” Christina says. “And we’ve got money on this one, so...”

                “Which way does the bet go?” I ask, even as someone sits down in front of me.

                “That you won’t get it.”

                “I’ve only got one so far,” I grumble. I reach out.

 

And I know it once, just as I knew Al at once. I act dumb though. I stroke over jaw and chin, nose and hair. And finally, I let my fingers find their way to the eyebrows. I frown a bit when I get there, because he’s obviously removed the piercings, presumably to stop it being immediately obvious. I drop my hands down.

                “Well?” Christina asks.

                “Let me feel again,” I say. I take my time with the exploration, touching his lips and hoping it looks like an accident instead of absolutely intentional. I go back to the cheekbones before I let my hands drop again. “Eric,” I say, with absolute certainty. “This is Eric.”

                “God bloody damn it,” Christina says.

                “Did anyone win anything?” I ask.

                “I do,” Four’s voice says, sounding gleeful. “I told them all you’d know the man who threw knives at you, even if you were blindfolded.”

                “May I take off the blindfold?” I ask. Fingers take the top of it and pull it up, over my hair and I blink in the light. Eric is holding the blindfold and looking at me so queerly. But before I can speak or do anything, he gets up and walks away. He goes back to his position at the back of the room, and stays there to stare at me. Christina helps me up and ushers me over to a table.

                “What do you want to drink?” she asks me, gesturing.

                “Um – just lemonade for now, I think,” I say, laughing. “That rum’s made me feel a bit light-headed.”

                “So sensible,” she says, pouring the drink out. “So, how is your first birthday party going?”

                “It’s good,” I say, laughing. “I’m enjoying it and it is fun. What other games are we going to play?”

                “Oh, there’s a few lined up, but you’ve done the only one that we will insist you take part in.”

                “OK,” I say. “Thank you so much for doing all this, I never thought you’d go to these lengths. I just thought you might be able to get Four to let you put some streamers up in the training room or something, and maybe cake at dinner.”

                “Oh we’re having cake,” she answers serenely. “Got to have cake. But now, it’s time for you to open your presents.”

                “Presents?” I query.

                “Will, Al – it’s time,” she shouts at them and they nod at once, walking to the far end of the room. Between them, they carry a table back to the chair nobody moved after the game was over. My eyes widen.

                “You didn’t have to get me presents!” I cry, blushing scarlet. “And I can’t repay so –“

                “You’ve never had a present, have you?” Will asks. I shake my head. “Presents are gifts, Tris; they aren’t given to get something in return. A selfless act of bringing happiness to someone else – it’s very Abnegation. Now, park your butt on that chair and get unwrapping. Christina has been dying to know what some of them are.” Then Four steps forward and says something so sweet, I’m tempted to leap into his arms.     

                “Guys, I know that you planned this part but I think Tris might prefer to wait to open her gifts until she’s got fewer people goggling at her.” Christina’s face falls and she turns to me.

                “Would you?” she asks. “Nobody will mind if you do, we can pack them up and you can open them after the party – I’m sorry. I didn’t think this bit might be a bit of an ordeal for you.” I nod.

                “I’m sorry,” I answer, blushing a bit. “I would prefer to wait only I don’t want any of you to think that I’m not grateful. I am, I really am, and I want to thank you all for the gifts. This is so sweet, all of it, and I love it.”

                “You can wait,” Four tells me. “Nobody minds, do they?” Everyone hastens to assure me that of course they don’t mind and I immediately make up my mind that when I do open them, I will go to each person to thank them again.

 

Al and Will take the table back, and someone sets music going. People cluster to drink and talk and I go from group to group, joining in the conversations and chatting and laughing more than I think I ever have done before. Eric keeps to himself, looking largely content to sit at the back and watching, and eventually I go over to him.

                “Can I join you?” I ask. He nods, and I sit down beside him. I offer him a smile and he finds one in return, but the look in his eyes doesn’t quite match it. “Are you OK?”

                “I’m fine. I’m not much for casual chit-chat. I’m always happy to sit and watch company. I couldn’t believe it when Christina came to Four and me to tell us you’d never had a birthday party and she wanted to throw you one. She’s done well, hasn’t she?”

                “Oh she has,” I say, hastening to register my enthusiasm. “I never thought this was a birthday party, although having said that I’m not sure what I thought one was. Am I doing OK?”

“Only you would ask for feedback about your own birthday party. You did well at Facial Recognition, by the way.”

                “Thank you,” I say, smiling. “I got the obvious ones at least. I can’t believe I thought Uriah was Lynn, that’s shocking.” He laughs at that.

                “It’s amazing what you can think when you’re blindfolded and trying to guess someone by feel alone. You got Al very quickly.”

                “Well, nobody else has muscles that big.”

                “He did tell them you’d get him at once. Christina said there had to be at least one person you’d guess or you’d wind up unconscious under the drinks table. Although I expected you to guess Marlene right and miss me completely. What gave me away?” he asks.

                “I knew it was you as soon as you sat down,” I retort. “I recognised your aftershave. Then when I touched your neck I could feel the raised lines of your tattoos.”

                “You took your sweet time announcing it,” he says quietly, so quietly I’m forced to lean in a little. I turn my head towards him, letting the sweep of my hair hide my face.

                “Yes,” I say. “Perhaps I just enjoyed touching you.”

 

He doesn’t get a chance to say anything, because Christina comes over.

                “Eric, we’re short a player for Rated R and Four said you were always a laugh at the game – want to make up our numbers?”

                “Sure,” he says. “Tris, want to come and watch? Rated R is an – educational game.”

                “I don’t trust that educational,” I say, tucking my hair behind my ear. “What is it really?”

                “Come on, you can sit next to me and I can explain it to you,” she says, leading us both to a small square table where Will is spreading out a deck of cards whilst Uriah shuffles another deck. Eric pauses before he sits and looks at the glass in my hand.

                “You’re empty,” he says, pointing at it. “Give it to me and I’ll get you a refill. What was it?”

                “It was just lemonade,” I say. “I wanted something soft after the rum.”

                “Well, you seem level-headed enough to me and that in my book translates into a drink won’t hurt you. I’ll get you a rum and lemonade, if that’s agreeable. Plus, you might want an adult beverage for this game.” I laugh and nod and he goes off to get the drink. When he comes back, Uriah is dealing out the deck he was shuffling and Christina is explaining the rules.

                “Dealer goes first, and that means Uriah draws the first card. He draws a card from the table deck without looking at it, then asks a question. Whoever holds the matching card in the deck we are using has to claim the question – whether it’s true or not. The idea is to ask the cheekiest questions you can – questions you don’t seriously think anyone is actually responsible for. Does that make sense?” I nod.

                “I think so – thank you, Eric. Can I watch you play a round?” I query.

                “Of course,” she says, picking up her cards and fanning them out.

                “Everyone ready?” Uriah asks. Then – “Who dreams about the birthday girl at night? Six of diamonds.”

                “Me,” Will says. “And it’s most definitely true.” He gives me a roguish wink. “I draw now, don’t I?” he asks, and then receives Christina’s nod and pulls a card. “Who wants to see Four naked? Ace of hearts.”

                “Me,” says Eric. “That is _grim_. Who’s had fantasies about naked boxing? King of spades.”

                “Me,” Christina says, laughing. “But you’ll never know if it’s true,” she says, raising eyebrows at Will. “Who secretly fancies Lauren? Three of clubs – oh damn, that’s me!” We have quite an audience and Lauren herself laughs at this.

                “There’s no need to sound quite so horrified,” she protests. Christina draws again. “Who’s in love with early morning drill? King of Hearts.”

                “Me,” Will says. “This game is positively slanderous. Who cheats at lap runs? Five of spades.”

                “That’s an outrageous lie!” Eric protests, throwing down the match. “Who gets off on being called Daddy? Three of hearts.”

                “Me,” Christina cries, to general laughter. “I’ll own that one.”

 

The questions get worse and worse, and finally, after Uriah has claimed the very dubious pleasure of being the one who enjoys something called auto-erotic asphyxiation, there’s only one card left in the deck – and its pair is in Eric’s hand.

                “This bit is always fun,” Christina whispers to me. “The last question of Rated R is always a hoot and a half. There’s an unwritten rule that the asker asks a question he knows – or believes – to be true.” You can practically see the wheels turning in Uriah’s head as he stares at the card on the table, and thinks about who holds its mate. Eric has had a bit to drink, and seems in a good mood – but where to draw the line? He looks up, and takes a breath.

                “Who wants to see the birthday girl naked?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The “Rated R” card game Eric, Christina, Will and Uriah play is an adult version of “Impertinent Questions” – the rules of this game exist as Christina explains them to the watching Tris. Because the questions can be adapted, it doesn’t matter what age you play the game at – I frequently play it with younger cousins using questions such as “Who lost the Xbox controller?” or “Who can’t sit still in school?” To play the game, you need two packs of cards, no fewer than four people and no more than 13, and an open mind. The fewer playing the better really, as then you get more cards.


	15. Truth or Dare?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A round of Truth or Dare raises some interesting events and reveals a few secrets...

_SEPTEMBER 8 TH – 18TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE ONE (EVENING)_

 

I half-expect Eric to storm away, start shouting, possibly even start throwing punches. He lays down the Jack of Clubs and meets Uriah’s eyes calmly.

                “That would be me.” I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding and try to break the slight tension in the air.

                “You’ll have to get me a few more drinks first,” I say, with an air of the prim and proper Abnegation about me. “I cost a _little_ more than one rum and lemonade.” He looks at me in astonishment, then tips his head back and laughs out loud.     

                “You bad girl,” he says, when he’s back in some semblance of control. “I’m proud of you. Same again?” I hand him my glass and offer him a smile.

                “Please. Perhaps not quite as strong.” He moves away and Christina and Uriah stare at me.

                “Did I just see that?” Christina demands of him. “Did I just see Tris and Eric flirt?”             

                “I saw it too,” Uriah says, gazing at me. “I bow before you, my lady,” he says, pretending to prostrate himself across the table. “You really have got some serious balls.” Eric returns with my drink and then drifts away. Uriah goes too; to talk to a group consisting of Edward, Myra, Will and Al. Christina takes the opportunity to lean in close.

                “I bloody told you,” she whispers, somehow managing to crow about it. “He is interested in you!”

                “Oh he is not,” I say, waving it away. “It’s just the game – you said it yourself. Whoever has the matching card has to claim the question. Besides which, it’s pretty obvious he’s quite drunk.”

                “Your powers of denial amaze me. He wants you.” She picks up her glass and drinks, looking at me over the top of it. “Do you fancy him?”

                “ _No_ ,” I say, hating the blush I can feel giving me away.

                “Oh my God, you do! You do!”

                “I do not. And anyway, I hate the term fancy. It’s so juvenile.” Because I don’t fancy him, I really don’t. I know I want to kiss him again, feel the power of him pressing me into a wall again, feel his mouth on mine again as he claims my lips as he did on the train. Desire? Oh yes, I desire him, even if I barely understand the feeling. But do I fancy him? No.

                “Do you want him?” she asks, even quieter now. I roll my eyes and she sits back, holding up her hands and laughing. “OK, I’ll let it go. What do you want to do now?”           

                “Well, everyone seems to be forming a big circle, so why don’t we go and check out what the situation is with that?” I suggest. She glances over.

                “I think that’s the beginnings of a game of spin the bottle,” she says. “You know it?”

                “I saw people playing it after school once – they called it truth or dare.”

                “That’s the one,” she says, cheerfully. “Want to play? Dares are mostly kisses so I’d avoid those – unless you’re comfortable kissing people now?”

                “I’d be cool with it. I’ve kissed someone since our conversation.” She’s obviously dying to ask questions, so I jump up to go and join the circle. I sit between Will and Myra; she nudges in between Al and Four.

                “We were going to ask if you guys were in for this. Does everyone know the rules?” Lauren asks. Myra admits that she knows the theory but not the details, so at least I don’t have to confess my ignorance. Four is passing out small glasses, one to each of us.

                “You spin the bottle when it’s your turn. Whoever it lands pointing at has to choose either a question or a dare. If you pick “truth”, you must either answer the question you’re asked honestly, or take a shot,” Lauren explains, holding up two bottles. “You can choose either rum or whiskey. If you pick dare, you must either complete the dare, or one of the forfeits on this list,” she continues, now waving a paper at us. “Does anyone not want to be involved?” I can feel Eric’s eyes burning into me from across the circle and I raise my head. I do nothing at first, but as he smirks, obviously expecting me to drop out. I wink at him, and face the bottle again. “Tris, as the birthday girl, you get to be Ringmaster – you take these lists of truths, dares and forfeits and act accordingly. When it’s your turn to choose, I have copies of the same lists.” She hands off a pack of papers and I accept them when they’ve reached me. “Birthday girl gets to spin first too,” she adds, beaming at me. I lean forward and set the thing to spinning. I don’t really manage to spin it very well, but it manages a few full rotations anyway. It lands to point at Will.

                “Truth,” he declares. When a few jeers arise, he raises his hands defensively. “Got to keep some anticipation going,” he protests. I scan down the paper headed “Truths”. Following his lead, I pick a fairly innocuous question.

                “Who’s your favourite trainer, Four or Eric?”

                “Four,” Will says, without even pausing. “He at least adds encouragement when he’s punching you in the jaw.” He leans forward and spins it. Lynn.

                “Dare,” she says. “Dauntless born don’t believe in playing safe.”

                “Take a shot off of the person to your left,” I say. Lynn smirks and Lauren hands her the bottle of rum. She pours the shot into the glass in front of her and turns to Marlene, who smirks at her. Taking the shot glass, Marlene places the slimmer end into her mouth, so Lynn has to bend her head to fit her own mouth over the top, removing it and downing the contents without her hands. The bottle spins again and Christina falls victim.

                “Dare,” she says boldly. “Dauntless born aren’t the only ones who can play risky.” I’d be tempted to give her an easy one but I kind of want her to suffer a little bit for the whole fancying conversation.

                “Give the person to your left a hickey,” I say. I don’t know what a hickey is, but even if it turns out to be a fancy name for a sucker-punch to the kidney it’ll still be funny. Four is to Christina’s left, and she turns to him with laughter in her eyes.

                “Come on,” she says boldly. “I’m not doing a shot this early in proceedings.” Four laughs and shifts closer to her. She grins at him, and tilts her head. I’m not sure what she’s doing to him, but it involves his neck and her mouth and Four apparently not minding it at all. He even lets out a gasp at one point. She withdraws from him and admires his neck.

“What do you think?” Four asks. He turns to me with a dark blotch on his neck, just beside his throat. “Will that do?” I nod, smirking like mad. So that’s something else I’ve learnt. Four certainly seemed to enjoy it. I rather get the feeling that I might learn quite a lot from this game. A few rounds pass with laughter and mockery, as a few people choose truth. Myra is the first to take a shot as a penalty, after she refuses to tell us who she finds most attractive out of Four and Eric.

 

And finally, inevitably, the bottle lands to point squarely at me, and Lauren sits up straight, rustling papers officiously.

                “These,” she says, looking important, “are official Birthday Girl truth or dares. Some of them are the same as Tris’ list, but with important variations. So, Tris – truth or dare?” I think about this. Sometimes taking the shot after a truth question can be as obvious as answering the question. But the dares might involve me getting naked, and I am in no way comfortable enough for that. Although, if I have slightly different dares, and if they were written with me in mind, there is a chance they have been adapted to make allowances for that. I pick up what remains of my drink and drain it.

                “Dare,” I say, with some confidence. “Definitely dare.”

                “Take a shot of rum, but instead of taking it out of the glass, you have to take it from the player opposite you’s mouth.” OK, that isn’t too bad. “If you spill any, you’ll have to take a penalty dare.”

                “Who counts as opposite me?” I ask, gesturing. Technically, I’m opposite the gap between Eric and Uriah. Lauren gets up and starts measuring things out.

                “Eric is slightly more central,” she announces. “So Eric.” I jump up, leaving the papers behind me, and cross the circle. He smirks at me.

                “Never too late to take the forfeit, Tris,” he mocks, but there’s no malice in it. In answer, I take the bottle of rum from Lauren, and fill his shot glass. I hold it up between us.

                “I’m not going anywhere. Of course, if _you’re_ scared I’m sure Uriah would be happy to help me out.” He takes the shot glass and beckons me closer.

                “You sit yourself right here, and tip your head back.” I do so, opening my mouth as well, because I’m pretty sure I know what he’s going to do. But as usual, I prove myself a pretty poor judge of Eric’s intentions. He takes the shot, then leans forward. One hand slides into my hair, bringing my head closer to his, the other hand slides around my jaw to hold me in place. He places his own mouth nearly on mine before he lets the rum fall from his mouth into mine. I swallow the shot once he’s finished, but I’ve misjudged it and he hasn’t finished, and a trail of rum slides off my lips and down my cheek.

                “Oh, fail! Fail! Penalty time – you’ll be playing the next three rounds in Eric’s lap, I’m afraid,” Lauren says, smirking. I roll my eyes.

                “I blame you,” I tell Eric. “I thought you’d finished.” I nip back to my vacated space to pick up my lists and return. “How do you want me?” I ask, then realise what I’ve said when people start hooting. “Such filthy minds,” I say, putting my nose in the air in a display of pretended offence. Eric just laughs at me and opens his arms.

                “Sit with your back to my chest,” he orders. I obey, dropping down and scooting back until my back meets the warmth of his chest. I arrange my legs so they’re draped over his and he rests a tentative hand on my hip.

                “Both quite comfortable?” Lauren queries.

                “I’m fine,” I chirp. “Hope I’m not squashing you?” I throw over my shoulder. He snorts.

                “Please, you barely weigh anything. It’s like holding a bag of cotton balls.” I lean forward to spin the bottle again and watch it land on Four.

                “I’ll go with Truth,” he says, taking a sip of his drink. I rearrange my papers and scan down the list. Eric’s hand comes round my arm to point to one.

                “Eric, Tris is meant to choose,” Lauren reproves. “Don’t be so damn nosy.”

                “Play the game ‘Fuck, Marry, Kill’ with Christina, Myra and me,” I say. It’s not the question Eric pointed to; because I’m not sure I really want to know Four’s ultimate sexual fantasy. Plus I want to know what Fuck, Marry, Kill might be.

                “Oh that is a tough one. OK, well, I think marry Myra because she’s too nice to kill. I think – hmm. Right – fuck Tris, kill Christina. Just because I figure Tris wouldn’t talk my ear off after we were done fucking.” Christina gives him the finger, but he just laughs, reaching for the bottle. It settles on Eric’s left foot.

                “Who takes that one?” Christina asks.

                “It’s his foot it’s pointing at, so him,” I say. “No part of my anatomy is in the way of that bottle.” I give the papers to Peter, who’s sitting next to us. “You’d better choose for him, it’s no fun when he can see.” Peter agrees, and asks the question.

                “Truth or dare, Eric?” I don’t even need to see his face to know he’s smirking.

                “I’ll take a dare.”

 

Peter is scanning down the list. I suddenly regret handing it to him; he will most definitely pick something cringe-inducing and probably involving me somehow. I try frantically to remember the dares, if any of them specifically named me. I don’t think they did, I’m pretty sure it was mostly player to your left and right kind of deal. And he’s not opposite anyone now I’m in his lap. I shift about a bit, trying to get a bit more comfortable. Hidden by my arm and his knee, he places his warm hand on my hip and grips it warningly. I freeze in place. Something is happening behind me, pressed against my ass. I get the same thrill of knowing I hold the power as I did on the train, when my legs were wrapped around his waist and he was telling me not to play with fire. Eric’s dare, involving him having to kiss Uriah, is over quickly. He does it without removing me from his lap. After Edward has confessed his undying love for Four, as per his dare, Lauren glances at us.

                “That’s three rounds,” she says. “You can get up and return to your own spot, Tris.” I manage to scramble back into my feet, completely lacking in any grace or dignity. Eric stretches his legs out, wincing slightly. I return to my own spot and wish I’d chosen to sit with Al, because I could have leaned in and heard whatever smart comment he might have made. My knees feel a little stiff from being curled up so long, so I stretch out. Edward spins the bottle and has it land back on me.

                “Oh come on, I literally just finished the last one,” I grumble. “Truth, as that dare got me into so much bother last time.” Lauren consults her lists.

                “Who was your first kiss?” she asks. I wait a bit, stunned, then laugh out loud. I have to think quickly, so I glance at Al under the cover of sweeping my hair back. He nods, almost imperceptibly and I look up again.

                “It was Al, actually,” I say. “Al was my first kiss.”

               


	16. Seven Minutes in Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris pays a forfeit that leads to a passionate encounter as the truth or dare game continues

_SEPTEMBER 8 TH – 18TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE ONE (NIGHT)_

 

Will is the one to break the silence that falls over our group, and he does it with a strangled whoop.

                “Yes Al!” He leans around Edward, who separates them, and punches Al in the shoulder. “That’s my boy.” Al laughs and blows me a casual kiss, which I mime catching to general laughter. “You sly bastard,” Will adds, looking between us. “Both of you, in fact.” I don’t look at Eric, even though I can feel his eyes burning into me.  

                “So – are you two like together?” Christina asks, momentarily distracted from the game.

                “No,” Al answers. “I’m still free for you, when you realise how madly in love with me you are.” She giggles and presses a casual kiss to his cheek. I lean forward and try to spin again but my flick is off and it spins out, clattering to a stop once more facing me. I try and protest this, claim that I didn’t do it right, argue the point, but nobody seems prepared to let me get away with it and I have to choose.

                “Dare,” I grumble. “As you will all insist on being so mean to me.” Lauren is consulting the lists, and then to my surprise, beckons Christina over. They whisper together frantically, nodding and giggling and casting glances at me.

                “OK, Tris. We will tell you the dare, and you may decide whether to complete the dare, or pay the forfeit. However, we’re prepared to bend the rules slightly, and tell you what the forfeit is when we tell you the dare, so you can choose either.”

                “Right,” I say cautiously. “That sounds OK, I suppose.”

                “Both share similar elements – or one particular element. You choose your favourite instructor – Four or Eric. For the dare, you will be required to kiss them – and a proper kiss, not just a little peck like Uriah and Eric decided they could get away with. You’ll kiss your chosen instructor for two uninterrupted minutes. The forfeit, should you choose not to carry on with the dare, will involve you, a blindfold, and the instructor _we_ choose – in the nearest supply closet for seven minutes.”

                “What would we do in the supply closet?” I query.

                “Well, that would be up to who you end up in there with.” I purse my lips as I consider this. I could just choose Eric, kiss him for two minutes and what would be the problem there? But – would the others know, or be able to tell by how we kissed that it had happened before? That would be a bloody interesting turn of events – Christina would probably keel over with excitement. On the other hand, if I choose the forfeit, there’s every chance I’ll end up in the cupboard with Four and we could just have a nice little chat about the merits of cupboards. Nice and safe.

                “I’ll go with the forfeit,” I say, and people hoot. I hold up my hands defensively. “I refuse to play favourites. Where’s this cupboard?” Christina escorts me to the back of the room, and opens up a door I hadn’t noticed before. She blindfolds me and pushes me in. I stretch out my hands. I haven’t heard her shut the door and risk a whisper. “Are you still there?”

                “Yeah.”

                “Who are they going to choose?”

                “Lauren’s asking for one of them to volunteer. I hate to say it, but neither of them look too keen.”

                “Oh, my confidence,” I say, sighing theatrically. “Why don’t you suggest they play Rock, Paper, Scissors to decide which one of them has to suffer?”

                “Good idea,” she murmurs. Then, raising her voice: “Tris is getting bored of waiting in a cupboard. Rock, paper, scissors?” Judging by the count that then happens, this idea has been fallen in with.

                “Who is it?” I hiss at her.

                “Eric,” she mutters, and my heart leaps wildly in my chest.

                “Poor thing,” I reply sarcastically. She puts her hands on my shoulders. “Take a few steps back,” she instructs at a normal volume. I go slowly, disoriented by the blindfold. I bump gently against a shelf and she disappears, and Eric’s scent fills the cupboard as the door clicks closed. I reach out, but my searching hands can’t find him in the darkness.

                “Where are you?” I ask. He moves, I hear the rustle, and a shirt presents itself to my touch. I grasp it, desperate to be grounded somehow in the velvet darkness enclosing my senses. I smile, I can’t help it, but he doesn’t speak or come any closer to me. “So, what’s going on?” I ask, cheerfully. “Are they going to keep playing out there?”

                “I would imagine so.” His voice sounds tight with stress.

                “Are you OK?” I enquire, stepping forward to bring myself a little closer. “What’s wrong?”

                “I feel a little – uncomfortable.”

                “Why?”

                “Because I should not have kissed you on the train. I should not want to kiss you now.” I don’t smile, because I know he isn’t making a joke. “And now you’re wearing a blindfold and I cannot even begin to tell you what I’m thinking.”

                “I can take it off –“ I say, but as I let go of his shirt to raise a hand to it his hand grabs mine and doesn’t let go.

                “I don’t know if that would be better or worse. You drive me insane. You seem to be on some kind of mission to make me angry half the time – then half the time I’d call it flirting, if it came from anyone more experienced.”

                “Ah, so that’s what’s bugging you,” I say, the issue suddenly clear. “Because if I was, say, Christina, or Marlene, or Lauren, you’d probably be telling me everything you were thinking because of this blindfold, but you seem to be labouring under the misapprehension that I am too innocent to be told. You said it yourself – I’m not Abnegation any more. I’m Dauntless. And I’m not too precious or too fragile to be in a dark cupboard with you. Besides which, I could always tell you to stop if I was too uncomfortable.” I pause. I can hear him breathing. He still hasn’t let go of my hand. “And I would trust you to stop, even if you make me as angry as I make you on occasion. Because my God, Eric, I really, really hate you sometimes. I have thrown knives and pretended I am throwing them at you, and I have tried to think of ways to kill you more times than I care to mention. You can be an absolute fucking ass at times. But then there’s the part of me who wants to kiss you again. There’s the part of me who wants you to do what you did on the train again, who wants you to take control and yet leave me knowing that I am in control too. Just because I’m not the most experienced girl, doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want, and who I want to flirt with. Oh, and by the way, I’m really glad my probably completely shit attempts at flirting were interpreted as they were meant.” He’s quiet, and then laughs, a short, surprised laugh.

                “That’s – that was quite a speech. And it was very Dauntless of you. Do you know what they’re making us play right now?”

                “No idea!” I say, laughing. I turn my hand in his and suddenly I’m holding it. He isn’t pulling back either.                                

                “Seven Minutes in Heaven,” he says, and his voice is light now, I can hear the laughter in it.

                “I guess I can figure out what we’re meant to be doing then – while I’m blindfolded and against this shelving unit.”

                “I’d be curious to hear your interpretation.”

                “Well, I’m guessing we shouldn’t be talking. I’m guessing we should be trying to take each other’s clothes off and kissing while we do.”

                “That’s the gist. The main idea – when Dauntless play, anyway – is that you try and give each other an orgasm and then get dressed again before someone comes in.”

                “Hence the heaven?” I query, smiling.

                “Hence the heaven.” It’s weird, feeling my face move into smiles and expressions but not being able to see his in return.

                “Hey, how dark is this cupboard?” I ask. “Can you see me?”

                “I can see you. There’s a really dim light I switched on when I came in. I wanted to be able to see you in case you started crashing around causing chaos.” I use the hand still holding his shirt to reach up and pull off my blindfold before he can object or stop me. I blink, leaving it banding my hair back. He’s barely a foot in front of me, all I’d have to do is lean in and we could be kissing in seconds. “You’re cheating,” he murmurs.

                “You accuse me of that a lot,” I whisper.              

                “I don’t play games, Tris. I don’t.”

                “I’m not playing a goddamn game!” I say, pulling my hand back from his. My temper is rising; he’s really starting to infuriate me now. “How many more times are you going to make me say this? I am not some delicate little bloody flower, OK? You act like I’m going to break any minute, as if I’m too _fragile_ for you. You say you don’t play games, you do nothing but play games.”

                “You’re in stage one, Tris. What do you think people would say? What do you think people will say about me, and about you?” His anger is rising too.

                “Do you think I give a damn what people say about me?” I demand, shoving him back. His hands clench.

                “I think you haven’t got enough common sense to care,” he retorts, eyes darkening. “And I know you totally lack that, because you for some reason seem to actually want to start something with me!”

                “Who says I want anything beyond for you to stop fucking with my head?” I snap back, incensed by his arrogance. “You’ve got a ridiculous ego going on.”

                “What part of _I don’t play games_ didn’t you understand?” he hisses. “I don’t fall into bed with any girl. I want a partner, not a fucking point of conversation.”

                “And you think all I want is bragging rights?” I say, and laugh out loud at that. “You think I want to be able to say I shagged you, you think that I want to do this because I’ve got some idea about it finally making people accept me? God! You are so arrogant. You play games all the bloody time! You play them with me, when one minute you’re kissing me and the next you clearly want to throw another knife through my ear. Hey, maybe you could do the other one and it could match! One minute you’re kind to me and the next minute you’re acting as if you’re lord and master. One minute you want to kiss me and the next minute I think you want to kill me. I’m not the one playing the bloody games!” He snarls, crowding into me to pick me off my feet, dropping my ass onto a shelf so he stands between my legs. “See, this is what I mean,” I spit, grabbing him by the shirt front again. “You think that I’m too innocent for you, but you spend half your time throwing me against walls and apparently trying to intimidate me in some kind of who’ll blink first scene.”

                “You cannot even begin to _imagine_ what I want to do to you.” His hand goes into my hair, pulling it off my neck. The other strokes up the line of my throat and comes to rest against the back of my neck. “You would be shocked, appalled, probably frightened.”

                “I’m not afraid of anything,” I counter. “You’ve thrown knives at me. I’ve been beaten more times than I can remember. You don’t scare me and you never did.”

                “You have no preservation instincts. And damn me for finding it so goddamn attractive.” He kisses me now, short and hard, invasive and possessive – and it drives me mad. I want him, and I want to punch him. I want him to never stop kissing me, and I want him to go and jump into the Chasm. I want him to put his hands on me, and I want to rip them off at the fucking wrists.

                “I thought you hated me,” I say, ripping my lips off his, pushing him back but wrapping my legs around him so he can’t go far. And isn’t that just indicative of our whole, messed-up dynamic?

                “I don’t actually know,” he growls, resting his forehead on mine. “I want to throttle you – I want you naked and wrapped around me. I want to shout at you until I’m hoarse; I want to make you scream until you can’t talk.”

                “That feeling is bloody mutual,” I retort.

                “I – I don’t play around, Tris, I meant that part. I’m not starting something with you if it will end up turning out as a one-night thing. And you can’t tell me it won’t, because you don’t know about sex. And that it isn’t a criticism, it’s just a fact. I need to work you out, I need to –“ But he’s interrupted by the sound of a key rattling into the lock of our cupboard. He leaps away from me, and I yank my blindfold back into place. I hope he hasn’t done too much damage to my hair. We don’t have time to think of a story, because the door has been thrown open.

                “Ah, damn!” A chorus greets us. “Not naked. Boo. Doesn’t even look like they’ve touched!”

                “What did you expect?” Eric says, his voice light, laughing and casual. “All I did was help her sit down and then we talked about what dares people might be getting. Is it still going?”

                “No, we wound it up before we came to let you both out – oh, Tris, you can take that blindfold off now.” I pull it over my head and make a show of blinking in the light. “It’s getting pretty late, so we thought we’d have the buffet and cake now,” Christina explains, helping me jump down from the shelf I’m perched on. I follow her out and find that a table has been brought forward. I’m ushered to the front, and with great ceremony, Al reveals a cake.

                “We got chocolate, your favourite.” I laugh and thank him with a hug. I’m handed a knife and bidden to cut it. I do a hasty headcount and manage to cut twenty one slices from it. They’re small, but enough for everyone to at least taste it.

 

People dig into the food, spreading out to sit in groups. I sit with Al, Will, Christina and Uriah, and we laugh and gossip as we eat. After the meal is over, Four announces that even if we hate him, it’s ten-thirty and this party has already gone on for nine odd hours. Whether we all like it or not, it’s bedtime.

                “Training, as a _very_ slight allowance, will not start tomorrow morning until nine. You will all then present yourself in your respective training rooms. Goodnight.” I am caught in a round of goodbyes, and when Eric says goodbye we keep it brief. He gets the hug everyone got but nothing more or less. I offer to stay behind and help clear, but nobody will hear of it. Christina is excused because she planned it, so we link arms and head back to the dorm. In our free hands we each carry a bag of gifts, which she packed up for me.

                “So,” she says, “did you have fun today?”

                “I had so much fun. Thank you, for everything – it has been the best birthday.” She laughs.

                “It’s my pleasure. I’m just pleased you enjoyed yourself.”

                “I did,” I say. “But oh, I’m so tired now!”

                “God, me too.”

                “So what were you all doing this morning?” I ask curiously. “While I was wandering around terrified that I was missing training?”

                “We were pretty much just hiding from you,” she admits. “Four and Eric made us do training in the Pit Room, and then let us go at 11 to get showered and changed. Then we were setting up and waiting.”

                “What would you have done if I hadn’t come in?” I query.

                “Four was going to go and find you, chew you a new one and bring you.”

                “That’s brutal!” I protest, laughing at her. She shrugs.

                “It was the best we could come up with. So,” she says, unlinking us to pull open the door to our dorm, “can I watch you open your presents?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three chapters today, as they all cover Tris' birthday and I didn't want to leave you all hanging too much!
> 
> Once more I give my thanks to my followers, and everyone who has commented, left kudos and bookmarked the work! I also give thanks to people who are merely lurking away and following the updates, because you're beautiful too :)


	17. An Experiment in Pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris opens her gifts, receives a confused note from a drunken Eric and learns something about pleasure...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter features female masturbation. As a masturbating female, I like to think I have done reasonably well at creating a scene in which Tris tries to learn what feels good and what does not. However, feedback is always appreciated, even if you think I’ve done a terrible job please leave me something!

_SEPTEMBER 8 TH – 18TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE ONE (NIGHT)_

 

We sit together on my bunk, her at the foot and me at the head. She places her bag at the side of the bed and I put mine between us, pulling out a gift at random.

                “I want to keep the labels together with the gift,” I say. “Then tomorrow I’ll buy some cards to write thank you notes for people.” I look down at the package. “For Tris, I hope you like this and enjoy your party, from Myra.” I tear the paper open and unfold the contents. It’s a dark burgundy shirt, fairly simple and yet pretty.

                “That colour should look lovely on you,” Christina puts in, admiring it. “And it’s about time we saw you in something other than black.” I agree, folding the shirt and tucking the label into the folds.

 

Several people have gone for clothes, and I realise halfway through that while all the items are modest, each of them is designed not to be frumpy or shapeless. I pull out a small box, labelled ‘Dear Tris, with love from Christina’ and waggle my eyebrows at her.

                “What’s this then?” She just smiles. I remove the paper and reveal a black box. I fiddle with it for a moment to find the opening, and pop the top. The bracelet is simple, fragile almost in its delicacy. A little ornament hangs from it, and I look closely to see it’s a bird in flight.

                “Do you like it?” she asks, anxiously. “I know you don’t wear jewellery but my mother always used to say that every girl should own some. I saw this and thought of you at once.”

                “It’s lovely,” I say. “Can you help me put it on?” I ask, holding out the wrist that doesn’t have my watch on. She fastens it and I hold my arm out. It does look good, and I like the fact that it isn’t too clunky or too obvious. “Thank you,” I say, leaning forward to embrace her. “Not just for the bracelet, or the party – you’ve been such a good friend, ever since we met and I – I’m not sure I would have made it without your support.”

                “Oh Tris, you silly woman,” she says, rubbing a hand up my back. “It’s fine. And for what it’s worth, if it hadn’t been for you spurring me on, I’d have snapped days ago and probably murdered Eric by now.” We giggle and then she nudges me with her foot. “Come on, get on with it. It’s getting late and the others will be back soon.” Al’s gift is next, and I smirk as I read the label. I show it to her and she snorts with laughter. “God he’s a sappy git.” I open it and stare for a moment. “What?” Christina demands. “What did he get you?”

                “I’m not sure,” I admit. I pass the box to Christina. “What is it, do you know?”

                “A-ha. It’s pyjamas,” she tells me, passing them back. I shake out the top, then the small shorts that complete the set.

                “They’re a bit – short,” I say.

                “Don’t you like them?” she asks.

                “I – I’m going to try them on,” I say, jumping up. I sweep my hair to one side and present the back of my jumpsuit to her. “Can you unzip me?” She does so, and possibly fuelled by the rum, I wriggle out of it in front of her. She treats this as if it occurs every day. “Cute underwear,” she says mischievously, glancing at the set.

                “Thank you,” I say, looking down at myself complacently. “I thought so. Now, am I meant to wear these with or without underwear?”

                “I’d keep your knickers on if you plan to sit on the bed in them,” she advises. “The legs are a bit loose.” I turn my back to slip off my bra, and wiggle into the pyjamas.

                “What do you think?” I query, swinging round. She considers.

                “Very sexy. You really do have a great ass,” she adds. “And those shorts just help it. Legs for days, girl.” I nip into the bathroom to check myself out in the full length mirror. The pyjamas, if that’s what they can be called, are black cotton. The top is just like any t-shirt, but with shorter sleeves and quite low cut. The shorts are frankly borderline indecent, so small they barely cover anything at all. The top comes with an embroidered slogan of “If you can read this, you’re too close.” I go back out and perch back on the bed, rather self-consciously folding my legs up under my ass so I’m not flashing her my knickers. “Are you going to keep them on to show Al?” she asks, entirely too innocently.

                “Oh, just ask me, I know you’re dying to,” I say, pulling out the penultimate gift.

                “Finally! What the hell? When did you kiss? Have you kissed more than once? Why did you kiss? Are you planning to keep kissing him?”

                “When we were having that chat about those people in that cupboard. I asked him to show me what a proper kiss was. Yes, we have kissed more than once. And if he’s up for it, I don’t see why we won’t keep kissing.”

                “Is he good?” she demands. “And who is that from?”

                “He is very good, in my admittedly limited opinion. It’s from Four – earrings,” I say, holding them out. “So I suppose this is an excuse to get my ears pierced.” Like the bracelet, the earrings are silver, and they are simple studs set with little red stones.

                “So pretty,” she exclaims. “Bud does piercings, shall we go tomorrow?”

                “Sure,” I say. I pull the last present, and she moves the bag, tucking it inside the other one. The label simply reads ‘From Eric’. I turn the box over in my hands. I’m not sure I want to open it. Who knows what it could be?

                “Go on,” Christina urges. “Who’s that one from?”

                “Eric,” I mutter. I bite the bullet before she can start asking questions and open the wrappings. It looks exactly like the box containing the earrings. But it isn’t earrings, or a bracelet. It’s a necklace, and on it swings an ornament in the shape of a train carriage. I can barely crack open my jaw, but I am spared the interrogation by the return of the others. I honestly never thought I’d be pleased for seven people, three of whom I don’t like particularly, to see me in tiny pyjamas. I close the jewellery box after tucking the label in – not that I need it – and immediately make a beeline for Al. He smirks.

                “Hello gorgeous,” he says, catching my hand and twirling me round. “I’m glad they fit.”

                “Thank you,” I tell him. “They’re very cute.”

                “Don’t you think Tris’ ass looks great in them?” Christina yells. The whole dorm turn to consider it and Al can’t stop grinning.

                “Yes it does.”

 

I thank everyone else for their presents, and then Christina helps me tidy up. I manage, unnoticed, to slip a piece of folded paper out of the pocket of the jumpsuit. Al shoots me a cheeky smile as he boosts himself into his bunk above mine, and I wink at him in return. I lie in the dark, listening to breathing settle down around me. My heart is still beating too quickly in my chest and I consider the necklace. It’s fairly obvious, at least to him and to me. I reach under my pillow for the paper I retrieved from the pocket of the jumpsuit. Enough light is filtering through from the bathroom for me to be able to read it and I angle it to get the best light.

 

_Tris – I meant what I said. I need to work you out._

_~~You are~~ ~~I think that we should stay away from each~~ ~~I want you~~_

__

_~~I hate you~~ ~~You’re infuriating~~_

__

_We need time to get our heads on straight. I don’t know what you’re doing to me. Eric._

I crumple the note into my hand and lie still for a moment. God knows when he gave it to me – he must have slipped it into my pocket when he was saying goodbye. The crossings out and the frank admission at the end tells me that in all likelihood this was the only scrap he could find and that it was written quickly, and obviously under the influence of the alcohol. He still assumes that we’re both confused, but if he wants to mess around, then two can play that game. He’s got some nerve saying he doesn’t. I toss about for a while, and realise that I can’t sleep. And thanks to Al, I know what the feeling in my belly is – that I am burning up for Eric and wishing against all rational thought that he had gone further in that cupboard, that he had touched me somehow, that he’s pressed into me. I throw back the covers and ease open the drawer beneath my bunk. The box of things I purchased from Carin is right on top, and I ease out the little silver bullet, holding it tight in my hand to warm it. I daren’t use it here; it would probably wake Christina, almost certainly Al too. I get out of bed, and make for the bathroom as quietly as I can. When I glance back, I am reassured that all remain asleep, and if I go into the showers and close the door, I will be able to explore myself in private.

 

I sit down on the bench that runs under the hooks for towels and clothes, leaning back against the wall and looking at the vibe in my hand. The heat of my skin has warmed the metal, and I press the switch with shaking fingers. It sounds loud in the silence. I run it gently over the skin on the inside of my wrist, feel the subdued power of it and shudder as I think of it pressing against me. I switch it off. I slip the pyjama shorts down my legs, leaving them to pool around my ankles so I can get them back on quickly if I hear someone coming. I leave my knickers on, cool cotton moulding to me and I reach a tentative hand between my legs. The other hand maintains a death grip on the vibe, wondering even as I hold it if I’ll have the guts to use it. Perhaps I should have read the books first. I don’t even know where to touch really. I mean, I know what’s down there, I know the anatomy, but I have no idea how to touch, how hard or how soft. I let my hand touch ground over my knickers, and physically jump. The cotton is damp and for a moment I’m alarmed – but didn’t Al tell me that a girl had to be wet? Yes, wet means aroused. I press my fingertips against the damp cotton, feeling a dart of heat shoot up into my belly, and I pull the fabric to the side with shaking fingers. I run my index finger up the slick divide that hides me, catching the edge of something that makes me gasp.

 

My thighs are trembling, although whether it’s with anticipation or fear I’m not sure. My mind is racing, my heart slamming erratically in my chest. I find that point again, the one that made me nearly cry out, and I touch it gently. I swear my heart about bounces out of my chest as I explore gently, running my fingers up and down, finding the points that send the sparks into my abdomen. The silk-damp feel is growing, becoming wetter, and I explore it, feeling it coat my fingers and sliding them back to my clitoris and stroking gently. The added wetness increases the slide and slip of my fingers around it, and I find the darts of pleasure are less intense when I don’t touch it directly.

 

Pressure in my abdomen is mounting, building and building until I feel like I’m hovering on the edge of explosion, gasps spilling unchecked from my lips and the sound of my panting breaths filling the bathroom to almost deafening level. I keep going, my movement’s erratic now, sometimes making tight circles and sometimes strokes, and suddenly I feel like I’m burning up.

 

A clutching, tightening sensation takes over, and I can feel my pulse under my skin, my legs shaking almost uncontrollably. I might have cried out, I’m not sure. My head is full of pleasure, my vision is hazy, and my toes are so tightly curled that a cramp has seized my foot. I’m panting, chest heaving as I gasp for breath, sweat slicking the stray hair from my messy bun to my neck and face. I couldn’t move now if my life depended on it. My face is hot.

 

I stay there for some time, waiting for everything to cool down and for my racing heart to return to normal. I make a last second decision to take off my knickers completely, slipping back into the shorts alone. I creep back to bed, and think I’ve made it, until Al’s hand reaches down from his bunk to touch my shoulder.

                “Tris?” he whispers.

                “Al?”

                “Are you OK? Can’t sleep?”

                “No – I’m fine now. Did I wake you?”

                “I was already awake. Night, Tris.”

 

It’s only once I’m in bed and his breathing has settled into soft snores that I realise the implication that he probably heard me. I’m still clutching the vibrator when I fall asleep.


	18. Fear of Failure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four puts the fear of God into his initiates, and Tris and Eric share a tender moment when she seeks reassurance for a pressing issue.

_SEPTEMBER 9 TH – 19TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE ONE (AFTERNOON)_

 

If he did hear anything last night, he makes no sign of it, either by word or deed. Training proceeds as normal, but there’s an indefinable air of tension as we know this is the last day we have, the last day to impress, the last day to make or break our rankings. Peter is fighting like a demon, knowing that the competition is almost certainly his. His only serious challengers are Al and Edward. Myra, on the other hand, is silent with fear, knowing that she will be at the bottom of the board and her only hope of safety being if two of the Dauntless born are cut out. I’m unsure of my own ranking, of my placing. I am almost certain that I won’t be bottom, but know for sure I will not take the top spot. I feel that the only contest is whether or not I beat Christina.

 

Eric is not in training for the first day since we began. Four makes no mention of it, doesn’t acknowledge it, just beats us through drills and fights. Tomorrow morning, the rankings will be posted. I know in my heart that today doesn’t matter, not really. Our fate has already been decided, perhaps it is even now being finalised. Perhaps that’s where Eric is. At the end of the day, Four calls us together.

                “This is the final day of stage one training,” he states, looking from one face to another. “The rankings will be posted tomorrow morning. As you know, you are ranked with the Dauntless born, and the lowest performing two initiates will be Factionless. For those of you who make it, you will progress to Stage Two – and the fear simulations. This stage of training will not focus on the physical but the mental strength of initiates. Performing well in the first stage is no guarantee that you will do well at the second. Over the next two weeks, you will be pushed to your mental limits, and some of you may break under the pressure. We will find out your weaknesses and we will exploit them, and when we’ve used them to break you down, we will build you back up. Forget stage one. Stage one is a walk in the park compared to stage two.” He gazes round, but nobody wants to talk. “Tomorrow morning you will get up at your usual time, and you will get your breakfast. After breakfast, at 8 sharp, you will report to the Dauntless born training room. Your rankings will be posted. If you are Factionless as a result, you will pack your bags, and you will leave. And if you’re lucky enough to stay – you’ll be briefed. For now, I suggest you all make the most of tonight.”

 

We gather in the canteen together, the four of us. Will and Christina sit together, closer than ever, and Al sits beside me. Underneath the table, hidden from the others, he takes my hand, winding our fingers together.

                “It seems real now,” Christina says, quietly. “Up until now – it’s almost seemed distant, as if it won’t happen. But suddenly – they’re ranking us tomorrow. By this time tomorrow two people are going to be Factionless, homeless, alone.”

                “Abnegation have ways to cope,” I say, glancing round. “They know the Dauntless initiations, they know people get cut after twenty days. Whoever it is won’t be just – left. And there’s the other Factionless. They’re tight-knit set.”

                “What if it’s one of us?” Christina whispers.

                “It won’t be,” Al says at once.

                “Think about it objectively,” she says. “The top spot will be you or Peter or Edward. Those are the top three. Then Will and Drew. Then me and Tris – and Myra.” None of us say it, but we’re all sure Myra will be done. She has struggled since training began and still isn’t improving. “So who loses along with the bottom spot?”

                “All we need to do is beat the Dauntless born. None of us are leaving tomorrow.”

 

But it’s easy to say it. It’s easy to think this, sitting in the canteen as a group. We go together to get my ears pierced, because sod it, if I am going to be Factionless I’ll go out of Dauntless with a bang. And while I can’t tell the others, there is a part of me that worries that Eric wouldn’t engage with me because he knows the rankings – and he knows that I will be Factionless. I torture myself with this thought for so long, I eventually have to tackle him. I give the excuse to the others that I need to be alone, that I want to wrap myself in my own thoughts. They accept it, drawing together even tighter after I leave. Perhaps that’s best – if my time in Dauntless is over, they will be together at least. I take a few wrong turns on the way, but I find the corridor eventually, and gather my courage in my hands.

 

Nobody answers the knock at first. I’m about to knock again when it opens. Eric stares at me, and I stare back.

                “What are you doing here?” he demands, looking irritated.

                “I have to ask you something. Just one question, then I will go if that’s what you want.”

                “Come in,” he says. “I don’t need any damn gossip if you’re seen here.”

                “Nobody followed me,” I say. “I made sure I wasn’t followed, I’m not an idiot.”He snorts at that and sits down in a recliner chair. He is dressed casually, a tank top and some loose trousers. I’ve obviously interrupted his downtime. I don’t sit down, as I haven’t been asked and I don’t plan to be.

                “I want to know if you wouldn’t kiss me because of what you know about the rankings,” I say bluntly. I watch his face closely, knowing that even if he denies it, the shock of the question will reveal the real answer. “Am I going to be Factionless?”

                “No,” he answers, as bluntly as I asked both questions. He holds out a hand. “Come here.” I go over, uncertain and cautious, but there’s no anger on his face. I kneel down by his feet and look up at him, because I’m not sure my legs are going to keep me up. “You aren’t going to be Factionless, Tris,” he says. I look up at him, and I don’t think he’s lying to me.

                “Oh.”

                “And that wouldn’t have stopped me kissing you,” he replies. “I told you. I wanted to. I want to now, but I also want to make you do thirty press ups for coming to me with your confidence crisis when you could and should have gone to Four.” I shake my head.

                “Four wouldn’t have told me. Four would have made me do the thirty press ups. And I had to know.”

                “Why?” he asks, looking down at me. He places a hand on my head, and I feel his fingers brush through the loose strands. I look up at him and blow a breath out in something like a sigh.

                “Christina and Al and Will are sitting together on my bed right now,” I say slowly, never looking away. “They’re wondering if tomorrow will see one of us gone, because they think they’ve figured out the rankings. And I know they think I’m at the bottom, and I started thinking about what you were saying about not wanting a casual thing. And I started to wonder if you said that because you knew anything that might happen would be a one night thing because you knew I was leaving. Then I couldn’t think of anything else, so I had to come and ask or it would have driven me completely mad before stage two even started, assuming I got to it at all,” I finish, rather muddled. He sighs.

                “You’re slightly mad already,” he says. His hand moves to stroke my cheek and I lean into it, the tenderness of the moment surprising me. I lean into it a little. “You shouldn’t have come,” he murmurs. “And I shouldn’t have let you in.”

                “You keep saying you shouldn’t do things,” I reply.

                “You seem to be a bad influence,” he says, smiling now. I can’t equate this Eric with the Eric I can have such glorious rows with. “And you have to go. I’ve answered your question and it isn’t appropriate for you to be here. God knows what people might say. Go.” There’s no anger in him, there’s no reproof in his tone. I could start the argument, but I don’t have the energy, or the fight.

 

I go, slipping out and closing the door behind me. I head back for the dorm and find the others much as I left them. I rejoin them, slipping in to sit beside Al and accepting his hug. Eventually, Peter shouts that he’s turning the light off and wants to get some sleep. I wait only for silence to fall before I get out of bed and press a hand to Al’s shoulder. He reacts at once, and I know immediately that he was never asleep.

                “I don’t want to be alone,” I say. And he opens his arms and I boost myself into his bunk. He strokes my face and hair, and holds onto me. Because even with Eric’s assurance, I don’t know what tomorrow will bring and I can’t stop shaking.

 

 


	19. The Things We Do For Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two people are to be made Factionless, and Tris cannot shake the fear that Eric lied to her. But Ranking Day holds some surprises, whilst the repercussions from the ranked order shake Dauntless to its core...

_SEPTEMBER 10 TH – 20TH DAY OF TRAINING – RANKINGS DAY (MORNING)_

I wake before Al the next morning, and roll over slowly. None of the others are stirring as far as I can tell, but my movement wakes Al a little. He mumbles sleepily and pulls me into him, wrapping one strong arm around my waist and dragging me in close. I snuggle in, rolling in his arms to face him. He kisses my face, his hand sliding up my back to pull my face close to his. Finally, his eyes open and he offers me a smile, his hand pushing strands of hair out of my face.

                “I didn’t mean to wake you,” I murmur.

                “You can wake me up anytime,” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep. “You OK?”

                “Yes and no,” I reply, and he seems to understand. “You?”

                “No, not at all. This is real.”

                “It is.” I wriggle my arm out and check the watch I forgot to remove last night. “Two hours until we know.”

                “Shall we go to the roof?” he asks. “Watch the sun come up?”

 

We watch the sun rise. Neither of us want breakfast or anything like it. My stomach feels like it’s full of rocks and he confesses that he feels the same. We could both comfort each other with the assurance that neither of us will be Factionless but neither of us speak. We just watch the sky and both of us think that we might never again stand on this roof and watch the stars fade to light. We don’t leave the roof until we have to; until Al’s watch beeps to mark that its quarter to eight and we have to go down. We’re the last ones to arrive, and for a wonder, not even Peter remarks on our arrival and our disappearance this morning. We join Will and Christina and I look around the room. There is a very clear divide between us and the Dauntless born. Nobody is speaking; nobody is doing anything but staring at the door. In less than ten minutes, two people will be Factionless. For the first time for all of us, this is no longer a nameless, faceless threat. It is real. It is happening and I can feel the fear wrapping itself around my heart. What if he lied?

 

He comes in with Four; Lauren and Max, and I draw closer to Christina. We take each other’s hands. Max speaks.

                “Initiates, your rankings have been determined based on your scores and performance over the last twenty days. For two of you, your Dauntless journey will end here. The sixteenth and seventeenth ranked individuals will leave today. These rankings have been worked out by your instructors, and are non-negotiable. We don’t tolerate whining. If you think you could have done better, then Stage Two is your chance to prove it. Eric – the board?” Christina’s hand tightens in mine. Al’s hand comes onto my shoulder, as Eric pulls the cloth covering the board away. My eyes search the bottom frantically. MYRA is as expected, and the second name is obviously a Dauntless-born, MARK. My eyes track up the board. Christina is ninth, and my brows come down. Where is my name? Will and Al are claiming sixth and seventh respectively, separating Uriah in fifth and Marlene in eighth. Drew is twelfth and Molly thirteenth. The silence in the room is still heavy. Lynn is fourth. Then Peter, only in third. Edward heads the lists, and there, tucked between them as if it somehow belongs there, is my name. Faces are turning towards me, people are whispering frantically and Christina is staring at me. I look at her, and she must see the panic and shock, because she folds me into her and Al is hunkering down beside me. Edward has stood up, he’s with Myra, and he’s pulling her towards the instructors. I push the others aside, motioning, and people are looking. Edward stops in front of them all.

                “If she goes, I’m going with her,” he states, head well up. “She isn’t going to be Factionless alone, so your board needs adjusting to take me off it.” None of them argue. All the acknowledgement made is that Lauren turns to Mark to tell him he is staying. Edward and Myra leave the room, presumably to pack, leaving a shocked and silent room. Eric taps commands on a hand-held device, and Edward and Myra are removed from the board. And my name, my name, the transfer girl from Abnegation, moves into the top spot.

 

Four steps up to brief us, but suddenly the silence is broken by a furious voice.

                “The fucking stiff?” Peter shouts. “The fucking stiff? She beat me?”

                “What did I say about non-negotiable, Initiate?” Max snaps. “If you want an exact run down of why you ranked where you did, I suggest you consult with your own instructors after this is over. For now, I strongly recommend you sit down and shut up.” He does so, but his fury is evident, and it chills me to the bone when he looks over at me. Four speaks.

                “Congratulations, Initiates. You will now progress to the second stage of the training here. The first stage rankings frequently alter during the second stage. You are not safe yet. You are not done yet. There is still much to test – and much for you to prove. Do not consider this safety. Do not for a second make the mistake of believing that you have no more to do. Today is considered a free day for you all. The celebration for the end of stage one will take place tonight in the Pit Room, beginning at 8pm. If you plan to drink, eat a good meal tonight – I am so tired of finding half-conscious initiates vomiting into the Chasm. Tomorrow morning, you will be fetched from your dorms at 9am, and brought to the Fear Sim rooms to begin stage two.”

                “You have one task, and one task only to complete today,” Eric says, stepping forward now. He’s not looking at me. He’s staring hard at Peter. “This will be your last night in your communal dorms. New dorms are available for stage two initiates – four to a dorm. You have already been assigned these dorms, and your dorm mates. As far as possible, we have tried to keep your friendship groups together. You make three groups of four and one of three. The following four initiates will follow Max, who will show you to your new dorm. Lynn, Uriah, Marlene, Mark.” The four get up and leave, stopping before they do to shake my hand and congratulate me. I wish they wouldn’t. Peter’s death glare is only intensifying. Eric reads out the names of the next four, who Lauren escorts from the room, and Four is sent away with Peter, Drew and Molly. Will and Christina exchange delighted looks when we realise this means the four of us are being kept together. Eric escorts us to a corridor that lies behind the Chasm wall, and walks down it until he reaches a grey metal door.

                “Is this us?” Christina asks, putting out a hand to push the door open. The room is simple, with a sofa and three chairs scattered around a coffee table. There are shelves for belongings and books, and a window set it in the ceiling allows natural light to fill the room. A door leads off this room and Eric gestures.

                “The bedroom is through there. You will continue to take all hot meals in the dining hall as initiates don’t get kitchens – you got to wait for that until you pass the training. Behind the bedroom is the bathroom. Feel free to put up pictures or posters or whatever. There are your keys,” he says, tossing a key ring holding four matching keys to Will, who catches them easily. “You can start moving your things today, but you’ll spend tonight in the stage one dorm, simply because it’s easier to round you all up that way. Any questions?” The others shake their heads, obviously longing to explore. He waves a hand. “Well, we hope you enjoy it. And congratulations.” He leaves and we stand and stare at each other.

                “This is so cool,” Christina says, enthusiasm practically bleeding off her. “No more Peter! No more Drew! No more Molly! We can come home every night and rub cream into each other’s bruises!” She’s practically bouncing. “Let’s check the bedroom out.”

 

Unlike the bunk beds of the dorm, this holds four single beds, each with a cupboard/drawers combination beside them – three drawers forming the base and a half-wardrobe making the top half. We each have a bedside table, holding nothing but a lamp each now. These have two deep but narrow drawers in and each bed has matching grey covers. At the foot of each bed is a chest, and in a rather forceful way, the Spartan nature of it reminds me of Abnegation.

                “Does anyone have a preference on beds?” Al asks, looking at us. Christina shrugs.        

                “I’m not bothered,” she says. “Are you, Tris?” I shake my head. Will and Al exchange twin smirks – and take opposing beds. Christina rolls her eyes at me and goes to the bed beside Will. I sit down on my own and give a surprised sigh. I fall sideways onto it and snuggle in. It’s so soft.

                “Shall we go and start moving things?” Christina asks.

                “I’m never moving again,” I announce, trying to snuggle even deeper. “This bed is ridiculous. I am in love with it. Tell Eric he can bite me, I quit.”

                “Come on, Miss Champ,” Al says, scooping me up and throwing me over his shoulder. I whine in protest but all it earns me is a warning grip on my thigh. “Let’s go.”

 

Eric is waiting in the corridor and frowns when he sees us. Al restores me to my feet and I offer Eric a tentative smile. He does not answer it.

                “Will, Al, I want to speak to both of you. Christina, Tris – where are you going?”

                “To start moving our things,” I answer, even though he was looking at Christina when he asks it. “We figured we might as well, as we’re free now and might not get much time tomorrow.” He nods, and waves us away.

                “The boys will catch you up.” I glance back at the end of the corridor, and see the three of them all looking at me – and all looking worried. Christina apparently hasn’t noticed, as her excited chatter about our new accommodation and my shock rank runs on until we get back to the dorm. Boxes have been placed on all our beds and flat bed trolleys are waiting by the door, evidentially for transporting the boxes once they’re packed. As my birthday gifts are still in the bags we carried them in yesterday, I put them straight into one of the boxes before pulling open my drawer and emptying it into the second box. All I leave behind is a set of clothes and underwear for tomorrow morning. Christina has only one box, and we join forces to pile the three onto one of the trolleys. As we finish, the boys come back.

                “What did Eric want?” Christina demands of them. The pair exchange glances and I see them force the smiles.

                “Nothing important. He just wanted to tell us that the party tonight is a free bar.”

                “And you call that nothing important,” Christina snorts. “Come on, pack up. We’re going to take our things to our new home.”

                “Wait,” Will says, fumbling with his pocket. “I locked the door – these are your keys,” he says, separating two of them. Too excited to notice the strangeness, Christina pushes the trolley towards the door, but I linger, staring at them both. I know they’re lying – I saw the look in the corridor, I saw the glances and how Al’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. Whatever Eric had to say to them was about me, but Al pushes me towards the door.

                “Go with her,” he urges. “I’ll tell you everything later,” he mutters, too quietly for Will to hear. I have to be satisfied, and I help Christina push the trolley back to our new rooms. I can’t call it home with the ease she does, and she takes the trolley back and leaves me to unpack. She’s back quickly, slightly flushed, slightly out of breath – and now she too is shooting me worried looks. I wait only for Will and Al to come, and for Will to return the trolley that bore their boxes, before I look up from my unpacking.

                “So,” I say, staring hard at all three of them, “which one of you is going to tell me what the hell is going on?” Al sighs, and stops folding his trousers.

                “Eric pulled me and Will back to tell us we shouldn’t let you be alone for a while,” he answers, biting his lip.

                “Why?”

                “He is worried that your ranking might make you a target.” I nod.

                “He thinks Peter will take a shot at me,” I say, calm and collected. “He’s not that stupid. To go for me now would be ridiculously obvious, he might as well shoot me in front of everyone.”

                “He also said you wouldn’t take it seriously,” Will says, tipping an armful of socks into one of his drawers. “And regardless of what you think, we agree with him. It is best if we stick together for a while at least. But that aside – congratulations,” he adds, grinning at me.

                “I half expect Four to come in and tell me it has been a horrible mistake and they’re busting me down to fifteenth,” I reply, bluntly. “And I wasn’t first – Edward was.”

                “That was beautiful,” Christina says, looking up from sorting her things into neat piles. “That he went with her like that, so she wouldn’t be alone.”

                “He loved her,” I say simply. “And that’s a powerful thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did debate about giving you all this chapter today, but I decided to be nice for once instead of mean :)
> 
> Drama drama!! 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading you gorgeous lot.


	20. Dancing Class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of stage party is a learning experience for Tris which becomes an opportunity to tease Eric. But danger is lurking in the shadows, and Tris faces an appalling ordeal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter does contain unprovoked violence that some readers may find upsetting.

_SEPTEMBER 10 TH – 20TH DAY OF TRAINING – RANKINGS DAY (EVENING)_

Christina forces me into the dress we brought during our shopping trip for the party, and she herself wiggles into a slinky black number with no back. When we emerge from the bedroom to join the boys in the living area, they whistle appreciatively and make us spin round. Al offers me his arm and Will takes Christina’s. We both give our keys to Will and Al, as they have pockets. If we want to leave separately, we can always claim them back.

 

We head for the Pit Room – fashionably late, as Christina calls it – and join the party. Against the back wall, where they held my party, is a sound system that is pumping music into the room, and the bar against the wall by the door is three deep. We join the queue, and I find myself having to stand very close to Al. He leans down to say something but I can’t hear him over the music.

                “What do you want to drink?” he shouts directly into my ear. I turn my head to reply and catch sight of Eric – who is staring at me with a distinct hunger on his face. I can’t blame him – I look good. I maintain eye contact as I lean into Al.

                “Rum and lemonade!” I let Al hold me close, I let him put his hand on my hip and wind his arm around my waist. Once we’ve fought our way clear of the crowds, Christina pulls me onto the dancefloor, Will and Al following us like obedient puppies. I stare round, shock and awe taking over as I check out the dancing going on. What is this? This isn’t dancing. Christina and Will obviously think it is, because they throw themselves into it happily, and I turn to Al.

                “What’s up?” he shouts, leaning into my ear.

                “I don’t know how to dance!” I shout back. “Not like this, anyway!”        

                “Do you want me to show you?” I nod, and he smiles, taking my hand and pulling me into him. He turns me around so my back is to his chest, and he puts his hands on my waist, stroking the bare skin exposed by the cut-out panels on my dress. “Just let me lead!” he shouts. His hips cradle mine, and we start to move together. I laugh as I catch the rhythm, and put my hands over his on my waist. I dance through songs, laughing as he teases me, kissing my shoulder sometimes.

 

It’s after about half an hour that I realise someone is watching us. Eric is staring at us from his position by the wall, and he looks _angry_. I press back against Al, hooking an arm around his neck, trying to imitate the way Christina is dancing with Will. I must do a decent job, because Al tightens his hold on me and pulls me closer. And I watch Eric, who is holding his beer in a manner which suggests he would like to throw it at someone, and looking absolutely livid. He’s looking at me, watching me, and I know for certain that he is jealous that it is Al’s hands on me. I dance with Will, and with Christina when the boys go to get drinks, I dance with Uriah and Marlene, but with Al I dance close and intimate, pressing our bodies together as the beat of the music starts to vibrate through my bones and my heart beat changes to keep time with it. Eric is now with Four but he’s still staring at me. Four looks over, obviously wondering what’s caught his attention and sees us too, and his face falls into exasperation. He takes Eric’s arm and turns him, gesturing violently about something as he starts shouting.

 

Eventually, Christina comes to shout that she needs to sit down, and I lead us over to a vacant table in one of the alcoves. She falls onto the sofa with a cry of relief and immediately puts her feet into my lap. The boys go back to the bar for more drinks and come back with a bottle of rum, a bottle of lemonade and four glasses.

                “Now we don’t have to move for a while!” they crow, sitting down with us. “Who wants a refill?” I slide our glasses over to them and Al fills them, sliding into the seat beside me while Will skirts around the table to slide in beside Christina. We talk – or rather shout – and laugh and drink until I feel so warm and so relaxed that I could sleep right here, despite the noise. I stand up.

                “I need to go back to the dorm!” I shout at Al. “I’m so tired!”

                “I’ll walk you back,” he shouts, standing too.

                “No, don’t be stupid,” I say, pushing him back. “I’ll be OK!”

 

Whether he agrees because he’s drunk or because he realises it’s stupid to escort me everywhere, I don’t know, but he stops protesting. I glance around the room but if Eric is still here he’s obviously found something more productive than glowering to do as he seems to have disappeared. I walk down the familiar corridors to the dorm, humming to myself as I go. I won’t walk this way again to go home, I won’t fall into my bunk bed and sleep among the others again. Tomorrow night, I will sleep in a small room with Christina opposite and Al beside me. This is the last night I’ll have to look at Peter glaring and Molly scowling. I reach the path running beside the Chasm and pause to lean against the railing. The rush and babble of the water is quiet after the noise of the party, and the spray feels cool on my hot face. I touch my earlobes, feeling the cold hard metal of the studs Four gave me, which Bud used to pierce my ears less than twelve hours ago. And then I reach into my dress, pulling out the necklace, holding it my hand as I feel the way my skin has warmed the little metal train carriage. Eric’s gift, the gift that looks so casual to any observer but has so much hidden meaning for me. I think of the tender moment when he assured me I would not be Factionless but still seemed so distant, even while he played with my hair and told me I was a bad influence on him. The necklace represents a great deal and yet he holds me at arm’s length, telling me he won’t start anything with me – and yet looks at me like he wants to rip off the hands of any man who touches me that isn’t him.

 

Maybe Al should get himself an escort, I think, smirking to myself. Just in case Eric does try and rip his hands off for dancing with me. He certainly looked like he wanted to and Four looked pretty irritated about something. I wonder what he knows, or what he suspects. It’s pretty obvious he does, anyway. The necklace might mean something to him, too – confirmation of his suspicions or confirmation that Eric has made a mistake. I wonder. I kept it hidden under the dress during the evening. I’d put it on because I – well, who knows? Why did I put it on, only to hide it beneath my dress and secrete it where nobody could see it? Did I just want to know I was wearing it, or did I want him to wonder if I was? Maybe he’s right. Maybe I do play games. Maybe I shouldn’t.

 

I turn from the river to return to the dorm, but never even complete the turn. A fist slams into the side of my face, and whilst I’m staggering back under the blow, hands grab me from behind and my head hits the stone wall. I sink into darkness even as blows start to rain down on me, and I try to raise my arms to protect my head.

 

 


	21. The Battle for Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris deals with long-reaching consequences of her attack and Eric is forced to admit that his feelings are intensifying.

_SEPTEMBER 10 TH – 20TH DAY OF TRAINING – RANKINGS DAY (NIGHT)_

_And_

_SEPTEMBER 11 TH – 1ST DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE TWO (AFTERNOON)_

 

My eyes are being wiped gently with something that feels cool and soothing. The voices floating through the darkness are anything but, and although I think I know them, they come to me as if through water. I feel weightless, as if I’m floating somehow, as if nothing is touching me except the gently bathing of my eyes.

 

I drift slowly on this bed of clouds and listen to the voices. They are angry voices but this doesn’t reach me, I cannot move or speak and I don’t want to. There’s no pain in the darkness, there’s no feeling at all. I could fly, I feel, if I tried. I wonder where I am and what is being done to my eyes but somehow the issue isn’t pressing.

 

It doesn’t become pressing until the sound of running water reaches my ears and penetrates my addled brain. I was by the Chasm, listening to the water and thinking about Eric. Then – someone came. I come back to consciousness with a vengeance and I start to fight. I thrash my arms free of something securing them and try to raise them into a defence. Hands touch my arms and I buck wildly, screaming as loud as I can even though my throat feels like sandpaper and my eyes do not open no matter how much I try. Suddenly a voice is clear, filtering through the panic to reach me and I know this voice now, as much as I would know my own.

                “Tris, it’s me – it’s Eric. You’re in Medical, calm down or I’ll have them sedate you.” I relax only a little. My hands no longer try to fight, but to find him in the darkness, scrabbling at the air to clutch. Much as he did in the cupboard at my birthday, he reaches for me, hands taking mine. I seize hold of his shirt with one hand; wrap the other around his hand even though it hurts like hell, a tongue of flame licking up the bones to my elbow.

                “I can’t see,” I say and my voice sounds funny, slow and thick. Now I am calmer, now I am conscious again I am in terrible pain, the agony like fire in my skin. “Why can’t I see?”

                “Your eyes are swollen shut. The nurse is bathing them and if you let her finish you’ll be able to see again,” he answers, and his voice is controlled and careful. But beneath that I can hear the rage and something else, something I can’t name. The weight beside me shifts and I tighten my grip on him, my light point in this world of black pain.           

                “No, don’t go,” I say, and I sound pathetic even to myself. He resettles beside me and I tighten my hold because he is the only anchor I have, the only thing convincing me that I am still alive. The cool sponge returns and the action is gentle. It doesn’t hurt me, or sting, and I lie as quietly as a lamb, trusting because I cannot fight even if all of this turns out to be a trick. 

 

I lie quietly and listen to Eric’s breathing, listen to the sound of clothes rustling as the nurse sponges my eyes gently. Soon, I hear movement and the sponge leaves my eyes.

                “Can you try and open your eyes now, Tris?” a voice asks. I assume the nurse. I find I can indeed open them, although they still feel swollen and I can’t open them all the way. I turn my head to see Eric beside me. His face is red with anger.

                “Who did this to you?” he asks. His voice is level but I can see the effort it costs him. I shake my head.

                “Didn’t see – more than one of them. What happened?” I query.

                “What do you remember?” he asks. I breathe out, trying to recall the details.

                “I was by the Chasm, just watching the water. When I turned to go back to the dorm someone punched me in the side of the head. Then someone else grabbed me from behind and slammed my head into the wall. I don’t remember anything else. What happened?”

                “Max found you by the Chasm. He thought you might be drunk, but when he tried to wake you he saw the blood. He brought you here then informed Four, who informed me.”

                “How bad is it?” I ask, looking at him.

                “Pretty bad,” he admits. He still hasn’t left my side. “Several broken ribs, several broken fingers, a hairline fracture in your right wrist, broken nose and both your eyes are black. You took a beating. Max thought you were dead at first.”

                “Take more than that,” I mumble. “I hurt.” I have no reservations about admitting this to him. He signals to the nurse, who has moved away. She returns to administer an injection of something and then vanishes again.

                “I bet. And you have no idea who did this?”

                “I have ideas. No proof.”

                “Tell me,” he says. “And I swear to you, they’ll pay the fucking price for what they’ve done to you. I won’t stop until they’ve had their punishment.” I pull my hands away from him and shake my head on the pillow. Whatever the nurse gave me for my pain is making me feel drowsy, like my limbs are made of lead.

                “I have no proof. And I don’t need my battles to be fought for me. I can fight my own battles, and exact my own payment.” We’re both quiet for a while, then I raise my eyes to his face. “It’s the pain in my side,” I explain, half-asleep already. I feel his hands peel back the blanket and hear him curse aloud before turning from me to shout for someone. I feel the darkness pulling me back under, and let it close my eyes and pull me into painless sleep.

 

I must sleep then because when I wake up, Christina is curled in the chair beside me, covered with a blanket and fast asleep. I shift slightly; feel something tugging on the back of my hand. I raise it. My brain feels like it’s full of cotton balls but I manage to focus on the IV line running out of it and connecting to a stand beside my bed. I rustle about a bit and Christina stirs, sitting up at once.

                “Lie still,” she orders me, pressing my shoulders back onto the pillows. “You had to have an operation – your spleen was ruptured and they needed to operate to remove it and stop the bleeding.” I raise my hand.

                “Wha’ is?” I ask, slurring terribly.

                “Morphine line,” she answers. “Keep your pain under control. How are you feeling?”

                “Tired,” I mumble, already drifting back off.

 

I wake up to see Eric having a furious row with Christina and Al. I feel better, which is damn good credit to the medical staff here. Still, I suppose they have to be good with serious injuries – this is Dauntless after all.

                “I was abundantly clear that you were to stay with her,” Eric is hissing. “Not let her go for a jaunt on her own not five hours later!”

                “She insisted,” Christina retorts. “And we already feel fucking awful about it!”

                “As well you should – if it were up to me the three of you would be Factionless over this. She’s hurt because none of you could be bothered –“ I sit up then, only wincing slightly. Eric whirls round at once, to see me pushing the covers aside and swinging my legs out of the bed. Someone has undressed me, putting me into a weird paper gown, and as I lean forward the weight of the necklace swings free.

 

He’s by my side before I can do more than sit of the edge of the bed, crouching down to kneel in front of me. His eyes are fixed on the necklace at first, before he realises where we are and looks at me.

                “Get back into bed,” he orders.

                “Bite me,” I return. I wrap an arm around my ribs and hiss slightly as I rise to my feet.

                “Where do you think you’re going?” he demands.

                “I need the goddamn bathroom,” I snap back. “Now back off.” I shuffle over to the door marked WC and manage to manipulate the gown up and get my knickers down with one hand. My right wrist is in a fabric splint, and while I’m sure it no longer counts as broken, it’s very sore. I wash my hands as best as I can and shuffle back out, barely able to lift my feet. I feel like I’ve done several rounds in the ring with a champion boxer, there might be a square inch of me or so that doesn’t stab or ache or sting. Christina and Al have gone and Eric is sitting on my bed, his face tight with anger. “What time is it?”

                “Four in the afternoon,” he answers.

                “I missed training,” I say, pushing my hair back with my good hand. “Fuck.”

                “You’ve had the shit kicked out of you, an emergency operation to remove your spleen and stop a lot of internal bleeding, several bones mended and a concussion dealt with. I think we can accept that as an excuse.”

                “I’ll be there tomorrow,” I reply. “I need some clothes.”

                “You need to get back into bed,” he retorts, standing up and gesturing to it. “And you’ll come back to training when the doctors say you can.”

                “I have the right to discharge myself,” I answer. “And I will. I’m not spending days in here while everyone else progresses.” He grits his teeth. “Don’t pull that face at me. Where did Christina go, I need to ask her for my things.”

                “I sent her back to her room, along with Al, to think about what they allowed to happen.”

                “They didn’t allow anything. I said I was going alone. I don’t need a goddamn babysitter.”

                “Tris, have you looked in a mirror?” he demands incredulously. “Your entire face is testament to that fact that yes, you do need a babysitter.”

                “What happened last night was probably always going to happen, and I couldn’t have been watched constantly.” I’m feeling a bit off, so I go over and sit in the chair – no way will I get on that bed while he’s here to see it happen. “It happened, now it’s done, and I told you I’d deal with it.”

                “You won’t,” he answers. “Max and Four are investigating it now. And it would make the whole thing a lot less time-consuming if you would tell us who did this.”

                “I have no proof of anything,” I remind him. “And I’m sure you have also drawn similar conclusions.”

                “Give me a name and an investigation won’t be necessary,” he says, the rage in his voice almost a tangible presence in the room. “Unless it’s an investigation into what happened to the bodies.” I reach for him then, at least I do with my good hand. I drag him close by the shirt front.

                “You won’t do a thing,” I hiss. “I will deal with this and I assure you, whoever was responsible will pay a very heavy price for it. My revenge on them will come and it will come at my hand. Do you think I need you to be a knight in shining armour for me? Do you think I need anyone to do that for me?” He does something then that shocks me. He falls to his knees before me, as I did when I asked him to tell me if I was to be Factionless, he looks up at me and I see in his face the emotion I couldn’t name when I heard it in his voice earlier. Fear.

                “Let me help,” he says, so quietly I have to lean forward to hear it. “Please. I – when Four told me what had happened I ran to you without even thinking about what people would think, or what he would think. I was so scared,” he continues, his eyes burning into mine. “And then when I saw you on the bed, so hurt and covered in blood, I thought I’d vomit from the fear. Then I got angry, so angry that someone had hurt you and all I wanted to do was hunt down whoever dared put hands on you and make them suffer.” His fingers reach out, and he touches the necklace. “Give me a name, Tris.”

                “No,” I whisper. “No. Let me deal with it, or I’ll never be able to make peace with it.”

                “You’re so stubborn.”

                “You’re no better.”

                “I hate you,” he mutters, pressing his forehead to mine.

                “No,” I say, with absolute certainty. “You don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for today I'm afraid! 
> 
> Obviously these two are quite heavy chapters in terms of content, so I didn't want to give you too much at once. Eric's pissed - do you think he'll respect Tris' wishes?


	22. The Struggle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris discharges herself from Medical, and lets her guard down in the presence of her friends...

_SEPTEMBER 11 TH – 1ST DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE TWO (EVENING)_

The doctor comes and I insist that I am discharged. He agrees on the condition that every morning before training and every evening after training, I report back to Medical for a check up. My wrist is to remain strapped up for a week. The surgical scar on my abdomen will be redressed each day and if there’s even a hint of infection, I’ll be readmitted. I can shower or bathe without restriction. Eric is warned that if I appear to be in pain or struggling, I am to be sent to rest for at least an hour. Eric promises this easily. I am warned that if I attempt to conceal pain or exhaustion, I’ll be readmitted and strapped to the bed until I heal. Eric promises the doctor faithfully that if he catches me at that game, he will personally bring me back to Medical. They finally let me go with a packet of serious painkillers and some cream that might help the bruises heal a little quicker. The eyes will have to heal on their own. Before I leave, the doctor hands me a brown glass vial with some little white pills.

                “They’re sleeping tablets,” he explains quietly. “Try to avoid taking them if you can, you can quickly become reliant. I would, however, recommend you take one tonight.”

 

Eric gives me his jacket to wrap over the hospital gown and walks me back himself. He knocks on the door of the new dorm and waits impatiently. Christina opens it and her eyes widen when she sees me standing slightly behind Eric.

                “Tris! What are you doing out of Medical? Are you OK? Come and sit down!” She ushers me inside and helps me onto the sofa. Al and Will have sat bolt upright in their chairs and Al looks awful when he sees my face. He turns his face away.

                “Al,” I say. “Look at me. This is not your fault.” Eric speaks before Al can reply to me.

                “She needs to go to bed,” he announces, glaring at me as if he’s daring me to argue the point. “The doctor gave her some pills to help her sleep for tonight. She might need help getting into her pyjamas. Tomorrow morning before you all report for training, she needs to go to Medical.”

                “I can hear you,” I retort, irritated by the way he keeps talking about me as if I’m not in the room. He ignores me completely.

                “She is doing this against medical advice and against my advice. The three of you have not heard the last of this and if you think you have you are sadly mistaken. I expect you now to keep a bloody eye on her. The doctors gave her some pretty good painkillers and if at any time those painkillers appear to stop working you will tell me regardless of what she might say. Are we perfectly clear?”

                “Yes,” they chorus. I roll my eyes and smother the wince. Looks like I won’t be doing that for a fair while. He turns the full force of anger onto me.

                “If you don’t turn up the Medical in the morning, I will drag you back there and strap you to the bed myself, do you understand?”

                “I understand,” I say. “Is that all?” My patience for his bluster is wearing thin. Perhaps he knows it and perhaps he doesn’t but either way he goes. I relax back into the sofa and watch Christina lock the door behind him. Al falls at my feet the second he knows Eric can’t burst back in, burying his face into my lap and winding his arms around my waist. He is careful of my scar and the ribs and I put my good hand on his head. “Get up, you idiot,” I say fondly.

                “I’m so sorry,” he mumbles.

                “We all are,” Christina says. Her face is pale and drawn, she looks ten years older. “Someone should have walked you back.”

                “Rubbish,” I say forcefully. “Listen to me. I have my own suspicions about who did this and if I am correct, all that happened was that it happened earlier than it might have done. You couldn’t have been with me all hours of the day and frankly I’m glad it was got over with early on.”

                “You think Peter did it,” Will says flatly, staring at me. I raise my one good shoulder in half a shrug – the right side of my body bore the brunt of the attack and shrugging with both shoulders makes my ribs erupt into the fiery pits of hell.

                “I haven’t got any proof either way.”

                “Did you tell Eric?”

                “No, and you won’t be telling him either.” I stroke Al’s hair absently, not even trying to move him from my lap. If he needs to hold me, well then I have no objections to it. Whatever helps him is fine by me.

                “Maybe he should know,” Christina begins hesitantly, looking at me.

                “No, he shouldn’t. And if it’s a name he gets hold of I’ll know it came from you guys and I promise you your life won’t be worth living.”

                “I – we can’t lie to him, Tris. He’s so angry. He’s so, so angry. You didn’t see him,” she continues, staring at her hands now. “He dragged us into his office after training today. I was terrified, especially on top of the fear simulations. If he asks –“

                “Look, I’m not going to ask you to lie for me,” I say wearily. “If he asks you outright then tell him by all means. But just don’t bring it up in conversation.”

                “We can agree to that,” Will says, looking at Christina. “Can’t we?”

                “Yes,” she says. “I can agree to that.” She looks at me closely. “You’re tired. Do you want to go to bed?”

                “I want a bath,” I say. “I feel sticky.”

                “Do you need help?” I hesitate, on the point of denial. “You don’t have to be brave here,” she continues gently. “We won’t think less of you.” All the fight goes out of me and I slump down.

                “I do,” I say, my voice shaking a little. “Please.” She stands at once, touching Al on the shoulder.

                “Come on Al. Let Tris go. Will you be a dear – go and set the bath running and put a couple of clean towels out for her on the warmer? And you might find her pyjamas.” He stands and goes without looking at me. Will comes to the sofa and picks me up gently.

                “Where do you want her?” he asks Christina.

                “On her bed,” she answers. Al has set the bath going, I can hear the water running and he comes back out. He lays out my pyjamas as bidden and slips out, closing the door. Christina’s hands are gentle as she helps me out of Eric’s jacket and the hospital gown. She removes my watch, bracelet and necklace, laying them aside. “What do you want doing with your hair? Want it washing?”

                “Yes,” I answer, staring straight ahead. She fetches my brush and impossibly gently, she pulls it through my hair, working out the tangles and gently combing over the knot on my skull where my head hit the wall. She removes my wrist splint and helps me into the bath and uses a glass to pour water over my hair. She doesn’t hurt me once, but that doesn’t stop me crying. She doesn’t speak about it; she doesn’t ask me if I’m ok. She helps me wash when I need it and afterwards she wraps me in warm towels and pats me dry as gently as she can. She replaces my wrist splint and sticks a new dressing plaster over the scar from my surgery. She gets out my painkillers, sleeping pills and a glass of water. I refuse both the painkillers and sleeping pills and she tucks me in, and holds my hand. Her hand strokes my hair and I feel for a moment as if I’m back in Abnegation, sick with the flu and my mother is sitting with me whilst my temperature burns high.

“Would you rather be alone now?” she asks me gently. I nod, and she bends to press a kiss to my forehead.

                “Call me if you want anything. When we come to bed, you can take the sleeping pill if you need it. If you need the bathroom in the night and can’t cope, just wake me up.” She slips through the door and I roll onto my good side, staring at Al’s empty bed.

 

In the hours that pass by, I run a gamut of emotion, from exhaustion to anger to overwhelming, nameless sadness. When the others come to bed, I feign sleep, not wanting to speak or discuss taking pills. Christina left the pills and the water right there on the bedside table; I can take them if I want them.   

                “Is she asleep, do you think?” Al asks.

                “Looks it,” Christina says softly. “Don’t disturb her. She was exhausted in the bath.”

                “Is it – bad?” he asks, his voice breaking a little on the words.

                “Yes. She’s bruises from head to foot almost.”

                “I should never have let her go back alone,” he mutters, and I hear the sob catching in his throat. “I should have gone with her.”

                “We can’t think that now,” Will says, a bed creaking as someone gets in.

                “He’s right. She’s a tough woman, Al. She’ll get through this and we’ll help her. Now we should pipe down. I don’t want to disturb her.”

 

They fall silent. After some hours, the pain is too much to bear. I reach for the pills, but can’t sit up or reach far enough to get them. I grunt with the pain and I hear Al stir. He’s up at once, he comes over.            

                “What do you need?”

                “Pills,” I say, gesturing helplessly. “Two of the ones in the box, one of the one’s from the bottle.” He gets them out, and slips a strong arm around my shoulders to raise me up enough to swallow them with sips of water.

                “Do you need the loo before they kick in?” he asks. I shake my head.

                “No. Please stay,” I ask, reaching for his hand.

                “I’ll stay,” he promises. “Lie down, go on. Are you comfortable or would you like an extra pillow?”

                “There’s extra pillows?” I was propped up in hospital and it was much easier. He smiles and slips into the living room. He comes back with three pillows. I manage something of a smile at the sight. “I probably don’t need that many.” He doesn’t answer, just slips his arm back around my shoulders to lift me up. One pillow is stacked on top of my original two, and one is placed at a slant to support my spine. I settle back with a sigh of relief. He lifts the blankets and my injured wrist and places the third pillow under it, supporting my forearm and hand completely. I give a sigh. Even before the painkillers have kicked in, this feels easier. I smile at him. The sleeping pill is doing its job and I can feel the first tendrils wrapping me up in warmth. Al tucks my blankets round me and strokes my cheek very gently.

                “Go to sleep,” he murmurs. “You’re safe here, the door is locked. I won’t leave you.”

 

I sleep knowing he is there beside me and I sleep easier for it. His hand in mine keeps the nightmares that I know must come eventually at bay for now. He stays all night and when I wake the next morning he’s still there, sleeping quietly in the chair beside me.


	23. The Start of Stage Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max gives Tris some valuable information and she works to keep her secrets from Eric, who isn’t above playing the guilt card.

_SEPTEMBER 12 TH – 2ND DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE TWO (MORNING)_

 

I wake to pain and cannot help the cry that escapes me. It wakes the others and they won’t let me apologise. Al gives me the painkillers and they leave me until they work and the pain subsides enough for me to stand. I manage to get up and use the loo unaided, but I’m forced to call Christina to help me dress. She fastens my bra, slips me into a button up shirt and helps me with my trousers.

                “You’re going to raise hell with this face when you take it to breakfast,” she says. “Have you looked at it yet?” I shake my head. I’ve avoided the issue of mirrors completely. “You should.” I sigh but I know she’s right. I head into the bathroom.

 

It’s a thousand times worse than I thought. My eyes are purple hollows, my lip split and swollen, my jaw an angry black. The knot on my temple is black with dried blood and the bruise blends seamlessly with the one on my right eye. The rest of my face is chalk white. She’s right – when I take this face into breakfast it will start a riot. Bruises aren’t uncommon here but my injuries are not run of the mill. Instructors would stop a training fight long before it got to this stage and anyway, everyone knows that we’ve finished physical training. But what can I do? Eric will probably interpret not arriving for breakfast as an admission I shouldn’t have left Medical. I sigh and go back out. Christina is putting my painkillers into my jacket pocket. She looks up at me.          

                “How was that?” she asks.

                “I’ll probably start a riot with it but I think it’s best to get it over with. I need to show that I’m not afraid and not intimidated. Best way is to go to breakfast and hold my head up high.” She nods.

                “OK. We’ll be right there with you. You want to go to Medical before or after breakfast?”

                “Better go before,” I decide.

 

I realise about halfway that the plan is that all four of them come.

                “Look here, if you think I’m going to be followed about like this you’ve got another thing coming,” I grumble. “We don’t all need to go.”

                “She’s right,” Will says, bringing us to a stop. “They won’t let us all in anyway and this won’t be helping if the plan is to project an image that this isn’t a big deal. Al, why don’t you take her?”

                “Al?” I ask, smiling at him. “Will you come?” Will has sense – Christina has seen the worst and he has perhaps dealt with the incident better than the others. But Al needs to see the worst so he can start to get over it. He agrees, and Will and Christina head to breakfast promising to save us both seats.

 

When I take my shirt off for the doctor to see my ribs and surgical scar, Al looks like he might vomit.

                “Pretty impressive, huh,” I say, trying to keep the mood light.

                “How can you joke about this?” he asks hoarsely. The doctor jabs at my rib and I glare at her.

                “That hurt,” I tell her. She smiles.

                “Good,” she answers, writing something on a clipboard. “If you couldn’t feel anything I’d be concerned about potential nerve damage. Did the sleeping pill help last night?”

                “Yes.”

                “Did you wake up in pain?”

                “Yes, but the painkillers kicked in good.”

                “That’s good. Can you raise your arms please? High as you can, stop when it hurts.” I manage to get the left arm up all the way, but the right arm stops to make a right-angle with my shoulder. “That’s fine. Your right side will be weak for some time to come, but at the end of the week we’ll look at getting you some physiotherapy. How’s the scar feel?”

                “Fine. Probably hurts the least.”

                “It will do. You may experience an aching pain there but if the pain becomes stabbing or the ache becomes a burn, you will report back here at once. Got it?”

                “Got it. When can I expect my face to return to something like normal?”              

                “If you keep using your cream, the worst should clear up by the end of the week. The bruises will probably hang around I’m afraid. The wounds are less serious than your other injuries but faces always look worse than they are. Your nose giving you any problems?”

                “I feel a bit like I’ve got a cold.”

                “Yeah, there’s some swelling. That should go down over the next day or two. If you can bear it, an ice pack will help with that. I can give you one tonight.”

                “Thanks, I’ll try it. Can I go?”

                “You can – on your way to breakfast?” the doctor asks, writing notes as I button my shirt and Al helps me up.

                “That’s the plan.”

                “You might find that lip makes chewing rather difficult. I’d stick to soft foods, and small bites.” I nod, and gesture at the door.

                “We done?”

                “We’re done. I’ll see you tonight and we’ll change your dressings.”

 

Al escorts me to the dining hall like a bodyguard. I daren’t pause to take breath or ponder the issue; I just push the doors open and go in. A few people look up at the entrance, then whispers start to spread like ripples in a pond. More and more faces turn towards me and I look around frantically for the haven that will be Will and Christina. They’re about halfway down the room, the whispers have reached them and they too are looking up. I aim for them, not taking my eyes off them even as I steam through the room as quickly as I can. Some people are even standing up to get a better look for God’s sake. I sink into the empty seat beside Christina, letting my hair fall forward to hide my face. The noise is rising again and I know a lot of it will be about me and what the hell has happened to my face. Uriah comes over and sits down beside us. Lynn and Marlene follow him, and our table is full. Uriah stares around, glaring at people until they stop staring at me, and Lynn pushes a plate of scrambled eggs towards me. I don’t speak. My lip stops me from bolting the food but I try and eat quickly. Christina touches my elbow gently. Without raising her head from her own breakfast, she murmurs.

                “Look at Molly. Straight ahead.” I raise my head enough to find her. She’s alone and the expression on her face surprises me. She doesn’t look triumphant or smug or pleased. She looks frightened. When she meets my eyes she ducks her head and gets up, hurrying from the dining hall.

                “Can you see him?” I ask quietly. Christina shakes her head.

                “Neither of them are here,” she answers. “Molly didn’t know about this,” she says flatly.

                “No,” I say. “She didn’t. I’ll keep her out of it.” Christina doesn’t ask me what I’ll keep her out of. She doesn’t query it at all and I know that when the time comes and I have my opportunity – and my proof – she will help me if I request it. Neither Peter nor Drew show up for breakfast, but as we’re thinking about leaving to get up to the Fear Sim rooms, Eric approaches the table. His eyes sweep over the blend of Dauntless born and transfer and he nods.

                “Have you been to Medical?” he demands of me.

                “Yes, I went before breakfast. And I’m doing as well as can be expected. We were just about to head for training.” He shakes his head.

                “You’re not. Max wants to see you – immediately. Don’t start bitching at me,” he adds threateningly as I open my mouth to object to this. “You aren’t being pulled off training. I’m to escort you to this meeting and then take you to training. Up you get.” I have to get Christina to get out because I can’t swing myself round. I slide along to the end of the bench and at least manage to stand up under my own power.

 

I follow Eric down the corridors to an unfamiliar area, with guards posted at the end of the corridor. It’s not the office he took me to after the timed run, and a sign on a door seems to indicate this is the security base. The guards make no attempt to stop us and don’t even blink at the state of me. Eric knocks briefly on a door about half way down this corridor then swings the door open.

                “Max, I’ve brought her.”

                “Ah, Tris. Come in and take a seat.” He leans back in his chair and Eric strolls around the desk so they can both unite to – apparently – try and stare me down.

                “Can I help you?” I query.

                “Four and I have been looking into your attack,” Max says. His voice is gentle. “Unfortunately, the path by the Chasm is a security blind spot. We have caught two individuals walking down the path after you and then the same two individuals fleeing the scene. They were wearing masks and had their hoods up. Unless you can name the individuals involved, we can’t progress.” I look to Eric.

                “I didn’t see them,” I say calmly. “I’ve told Eric this. It happened too quickly and it is something of a blur. If I did see them I don’t remember who it was.”

                “Eric has informed me that you have a – theory.”

                “Eric needs to learn to mind his damn business,” I retort. Max gives a little snort of surprised laughter. Eric looks furious. “I have suspicions and exactly zero proof. It wouldn’t be appropriate of me to make an accusation without proof.” Max drums on his desk with a pen.

                “You could make the allegation,” he counters. “We would investigate quietly and if you were wrong, nothing would come of it.”

                “Such an allegation would be dangerous in the wrong hands,” I say. I let my eyes drift to Eric although god knows what effect it has through my swollen eyelids. Max apparently grasps enough of the meaning to turn to him.

                “Eric, can you excuse us?” It’s quite obvious that Eric doesn’t want to go but evidentially he has no choice. He stomps out. “Whatever you tell me is in confidence. I wouldn’t even tell Four, if you wanted it kept silent.” I shake my head.

                “I have no evidence,” I reply.

                “Tris, you nearly died,” he answers bluntly. “Your spleen ruptured. If you hadn’t complained of the pain when you did and if Eric hadn’t checked it, you would have bled to death internally. Someone was trying to kill you. They very nearly managed it. If you know who did this, you have to tell us.” This shocks me, but I keep it hidden, make my face stay impassive.

                “I’m not saying anything. I’m sure if you think about it you can draw your own conclusions.” Max sighs.

                “You can return to training, Tris. If you change your mind, or if you come up with proof, please – my door will always be open to you. But I have one last question, if you don’t mind.” I nod, and he leans back in his chair, regarding me with a contemplative air. “What exactly is going on between you and Eric?”

                “Nothing,” I answer immediately. “Why do you ask?”

                “Eric is – complicated. I’ve known him a long time now, and I’ve seen him in all moods. But this anger over this attack is something new. This rage is – unprecedented. And I saw you reach for him in Medical and how he sat with you because you asked him not to leave. Eric does not behave like this.” I manage something of a shrug, battling to keep myself from responding.

                “Apparently he does.”

                “Yes, apparently so. It isn’t against the rules. If you and Eric, as two consenting adults, wanted to embark on something, that would be your own affair.”

                “Thank you for the advice. But there’s nothing going on.” He sighs and motions me to the door.

                “You’re free to go, Tris. Thank you for your time this morning.” I go out and Eric walks me back in furious silence.

 

In the sim rooms, Four greets me quietly and gives no indication that the sight of my face is shocking. Those who didn’t see me at breakfast openly recoil. Only Peter appears unaffected. Drew looks at me but looks quickly down, as if he can’t bear the sight. I notice, as I go to the chair beside Christina, that Molly isn’t sitting with them. She’s sitting several chairs down from them, staring at her own feet. Eric has noticed this too. Four asks Christina to explain the sim process to me but Eric speaks then.

                “I’ll take Tris,” he responds, gesturing at one of the doors off this room. “Is that one free? This OK with you?” Four shrugs.

                “It’s OK by me.” Eric throws the door open and stands aside, obviously expecting me to follow him in. I heave a sigh, and lever myself back to my feet. All this up and down nonsense is putting the pressure on my ribs.

 

He gets the door shut at least. I have to admire his control because the rage on his face is unbelievable and when he gestures to the reclined chair the room holds, his hand is shaking. I go, sit down and slump backwards with a small groan. He goes to the table which holds a jug of water and little paper cups, pouring one out. This he brings to me.

                “You need your painkillers,” he says, his voice cracking with the effort he must be making to keep it level. I don’t argue the point. I get the painkillers out of my jacket pocket and swallow two as obediently as a puppy. He looks at me and sighs with frustration. “What am I going to do with you?” he asks, and his hand comes down to stroke my hair back from my forehead.

                “Handle with care?” I suggest and he laughs.

                “You should come with warning labels, you’re right there,” he agrees. “If I’d known you were going to be this much trouble I’d have invented a rule to say first jumper is automatically Factionless.” I pull a face at him.

                “Are you angry with me?” I ask. He looks at me.

                “A little bit, yes. But no, I’m not angry because of you, if that makes sense. I’m angry because you’re hurt. I’m angry with you because you don’t seem to give two shits about it.”        

                “Of course I care; I just don’t see why I should let it stop me. This was an attack designed to take me out of the equation – if Max is right, whoever did this came damn close to killing me. If I get straight back into training, I show them they didn’t beat me. I don’t lose time or fall behind. I show them that the best they could do was knock me off for a day, that their worst was not enough to destroy me. Getting back to training as soon as I could has shown them I am not afraid of them – it’s a power move.”

                “You’re a – you’re impossible.”

                “Thank you.” He turns his back on me for a moment. The painkillers are working and I cross my legs comfortably. “Are you going to explain what this is, then?” I query and he sighs, but turns back to me to explain what the deal is with stage two.


	24. The Dining Hall Showdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris’ first fear sim reveals too much and a public row brings more attention that she’s comfortable with to her dynamic with Eric

_SEPTEMBER 12 TH – 2ND DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE TWO (AFTERNOON)_

 

                “As Four told you, stage two of training focuses on the mental. We inject you with a serum that activates the fear sensors of the brain. We watch how you cope when confronted with your fears, and how you go about defeating them. Most initiates have between twenty and thirty fears, and many of them interconnect. I watch you on the screen,” he says, gesturing at the computer bank. “The goal is to calm your heart rate down or deal with the situation in a logical, Dauntless manner. We aren’t asking you to be fearless – the expectation is that you can confront your fear but remain calm and find a way to overcome the fear or end the situation causing you fear. For example, if you’re afraid of spiders, we expect you to find a way to either get rid of the spiders or calm yourself down enough that the spiders no longer bother you.”

                “I don’t mind spiders,” I observe. “They’re harmless.”

                “ _I_ mind spiders,” he retorts. “They’re creepy fuckers.”

                “Are they one of your fears?”

                “No. I’m not scared of them, I just don’t like them.” He shows me a fairly lethal looking syringe. “Not scared of needles, are you?” he asks with a fairly wicked smirk.

                “Not consciously.”

                “Ah, and that’s a good point – some of what you experience is not a literal representation of your actual fear. We can analyse it after, anyway. Are you sure you want to do this?” I nod.

                “I’m ready.” He moves my hair away from the side of my neck and wipes it over with something that reeks of antiseptic.

                “See you on the other side,” he says, and presses the needle into my neck. I hear the hiss as the canister releases the serum and the sting as he withdraws the needle. I close my eyes.

 

I open them to find myself standing by the Chasm. I look down at my hands but the wrist splint is gone. I walk forward curiously. I’m not afraid. This isn’t frightening. I keep walking but somehow, I never get any closer to the curve of the corridor. The roar of the river seems too loud.

 

There are footsteps behind me, but when I turn there’s nobody there. My heart is starting to speed up now. I’m still not so much scared as slightly freaked out – am I apparently scared of ghosts? I don’t believe in ghosts though. The footsteps continue to echo, again coming from behind me. I spin round. The corner of my eye catches a movement and I spin again, desperately looking for whoever is here with me. I know what this fear is – being back in the Chasm with a faceless attacker who stalked me in order to hurt me. It’s probably more than one fear – the feeling of powerlessness I had, the feeling that I had allowed them to get one over on me. My heart is slamming away in my chest.

 

I turn and there he is. Clear as day, there is Peter. I put up my fists at once, determined to fight this time where I couldn’t last time. But I remember now – I did see him at the Chasm, right before I lost consciousness, bending over me out of the darkness. Eric said that either I had to calm my heart down enough to show I wasn’t scared any more – or get out of the situation in a logical way. I look around but there’s no weapon and no – there is a weapon. There’s a rock on the floor, several rocks. But when I try to pick one up it won’t move. Powerless, defenceless and alone – those are my fears, in that order. Peter is approaching now, he’s coming for me, his fist is drawn back and he is ready to strike, a terrible smile on his face. I can’t dodge him – each time I try, the simulation changes and he is still in front of me, still coming after me and I cannot run. I back up, my back bumping against the rail of the Chasm. The Chasm. Eric said either fight it or find a way to get out of the situation. Here’s a way. I jump into the Chasm.

 

I wake up back in the chair, my ribs aching in a way that suggests I was actually panting in real life instead of just the simulation. I force my breathing to calm down to a point where it isn’t agony to inhale, squeezing my eyes shut. When I can open them again, I find I’ve wrapped my good arm over my chest and the fist is clenched as I fought back the pain. Eric is standing beside me, his face contorted. As soon as my eyes open, his hands take the clenched fist in his and he starts to massage it gently, coaxing the fingers open and soothing the cramp it gave me. I look down at my palm and see purple half-moon indents from where my nails dug in so deep. One even has spots of blood in it. I look past him to the computer banks, where Peter’s face is frozen in his triumph.

                “Don’t,” I say to him, knowing instinctively what he plans. I reach for him with my injured hand and regret it at once when his eyes darken at the sight of the splint. “Don’t.”

                “It was him?” I give it up – the pain has drained me and I cannot hide it any longer.

                “I did see him, though I didn’t remember seeing him until now. I caught a glimpse, right before I passed out.”

                “You said there were two of them.” He hasn’t let go of my hand and I grip him tightly, reasoning that while I’ve got hold of him he can’t rush out and do something stupid.

                “Probably Drew,” I mutter. “They hunt together. Don’t do anything.”

                “I will report –“

                “No, I will deal with this. I don’t need my battles to be fought for me. Let me handle this – and trust me, Drew got enough of a shock when he saw my face today. I believe it is likely that he didn’t know what Peter planned to do until it was too late.” I sit up, hissing. “How did I do, anyway?”

                “Oh – unconventional, maybe, but actually you did well. You didn’t freeze up or panic – you looked at the situation and given that you couldn’t find a weapon, you did the only open option. What is interesting, however, is that once you’d moved past that event, there was nothing else,” he says, frowning slightly. “Doing what you did won’t end the simulations; it will just trigger the simulation to move on to the next fear. They’re only supposed to end if you’ve come to the end of your fears or if you control your heart rate.” I frown too.

                “I assumed that as I ended it in a way that would have resulted in my death, it booted me out completely.”

                “No,” he says, shaking his head. “Or maybe. I’ll have to double check. Most people end the simulation scenarios by moving away.”

                “I couldn’t,” I answer. “It was like – I was walking but not actually going anywhere, like I was jogging on the spot.”

                “I noticed that. I think that would represent a fear of being trapped.” I shrug at him with my good shoulder.

                “Maybe.”

                “Like I said, I’ll check with Four – it’s been a while since I did a stage two test but I don’t _think_ the simulations boot people out if they do something resulting in death. Might have been a faulty batch.” I consult my watch – having to crane a fair bit as I still have hold of his hand.

                “Well, it’s lunchtime,” I say. “We could try again after lunch.”

                “No you don’t,” he says bluntly. “No, don’t start. It’s not a you thing. There’s no more than one attempt per initiate per day. And I would prefer if you took it easy.”

 

Whether it’s the pain I’m still in, or the late night, or general irritation, I’ll never know. Either way, I pull my hand away from him and sit up.

                “How long is this shit going to last?” I snap. “This ridiculous mothering thing. I don’t need to be _resting_ ; I’m not a fucking invalid.”

                “Have you seen yourself?” he snaps back.

                “Yes thank you,” I hiss, pushing him away and getting off the bed. I storm over to the door.

                “Where the hell do you think you’re going, Initiate?” he snarls. I yank open the door and stamp on the twinge of pain it starts off in my ribs. He follows me out, through the mercifully empty room.

                “I’m going to get lunch,” I growl over my shoulder. “Problem?” I push open the doors to the dining hall and limp in. I really never expected him to not only follow me, but continue the argument as well.

                “My problem is that all I’m trying to do is give a damn about you!” he bellows, and the entire room turns to stare. My face rips into flames but as he’s either too busy glaring at me to care or doesn’t give a shit, I carry the war into the enemy’s camp.

                “Who asked you to?” I yell back. “I certainly bloody didn’t so why don’t you just take your whiplash-inducing mood swings and this ridiculous mother-hen crap and shove them both up your ass?” He rakes his hands through his hair in obvious frustration.

                “I’m tired of your attitude!” His voice is astonishingly loud. Maybe it’s because of the absolute silence. “You’re insufferable! You don’t have to constantly hold me at arms fucking length!”

                “Yes I do when you constantly start fucking arguments! You’re insane! You change moods like the weather changes! And if you really want to have this conversation, can I suggest you pick a more appropriate venue?” He doesn’t take the hint.

                “I want to help you! Someone nearly killed you and you still won’t let me get close enough to – to –“ His voice trails off as he looks around. There it is. He wheels around in one direction as I walk in the other. I storm over to Christina and the others even as I hear the doors slam behind me. I sit down in a distinct huff. They’re all goggling at me like I’ve got three heads.

                “ _What?_ ” I snap at them. They immediately become as busy as they can with lunch and gradually the noise level in the cafeteria picks back up. Only once it’s back to normal does Christina risk a glance at me. I’m poking moodily at my beef stew without really eating it or even noticing it.

                “Are you OK?” she murmurs. Will and Al show surprising tact and don’t even look up.

                “What do you think?” I return, and then sigh. “Sorry. You don’t deserve me to be all snappy with you.”

                “I’d probably be snappy too.”

                “That’s not the point,” I sigh, putting my fork down. “I shouldn’t take my bad mood out on you.” I shift in my seat and wince.

                “Shall I get you water for your painkillers?” I shake my head.

                “I can’t take them until three,” I reply. “I had some at eleven. How were your fear sims?” She shudders and shakes her head.

                “I’m damn glad we can only do it once a day, that’s all I can say,” she retorts. Ah, so Eric wasn’t lying to me, as I’d half-suspected he was. “You did yours, right?”

                “Yeah. Do we have to go back or -?”

                “No, we’re free. I was going to head back to our rooms. Will and Al have to go back though, they haven’t done it yet. Maybe you’d like to lie down on the sofa, or even pop back to bed? I shall be going to bed. This morning was hell. But if you don’t want to, I can leave you on the sofa with a book.”

                “We have books now?”

                “Yeah, there’s like a library here. We all signed up. I can take you later this afternoon if you like.”

                “See how I feel,” I say cautiously. “I wouldn’t mind a lie down, as it happens.”

 

She and I go back, and she settles me into bed, arranging my pillows to prop up my arm and raises me to ease my ribs. I sigh as I settle back, delighted to ease my aching bones among the softness of the blankets and pillows.

                “Will you be OK?” she queries. “I’ll leave your water and your painkillers – hm. This table is on the wrong side.” Before I can object, she’s cleared the top and is moving the table to the opposite side of my bed, within easy reach of my good arm. “There. Now if you need anything and I’m sleeping you won’t have to feel like you have to disturb me.” I manage a laugh at that.

                “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

                “I know, because you can be annoyingly independent sometimes. Do wake me,” she says, smiling. “Honestly, if you need anything just give me a shout.”

                “I think I’ll be fine,” I say. I’m already nearly asleep. I hadn’t realised how tired I was until I was in bed. “Thank you.” She strokes my hair and goes to her own bed.

 

I drift into sleep listening to her breathing, and with the faint roar of the river on the edges of my hearing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do we think? 
> 
> Now Eric knows, can Tris trust him to keep his nose out of her business? All the answers will be revealed tomorrow...


	25. Startling Declarations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric takes matters into his own hands, and Tris' fury leads him to an unwise confession.

_SEPTEMBER 12 TH – 2ND DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE TWO (EVENING)_

 

The guys return just before dinner, by which time Christina is in full mother-hen mode. The opening of the door and the appearance of Al coming along behind Will brings a wail of relief from me.

                “If you ever loved me,” I say dramatically, “you’ll knock her out and kidnap me.” Christina just laughs, and Al manages a smile.

                “Is she smothering you a little?” he asks.             

                “She made me put my feet up.”

                “Shocking.”

                “How was it?” I query. They both shudder and shake their heads and Will changes the subject.

                “What have you both been doing then?”

                “We had a nap, I helped Tris have a wee and then we came in here and I tried to bury Tris in pillows and cushions. We were thinking about going down to dinner, if you’re up for it.”

 

Something has happened. As soon as I set foot into the dining hall, I can feel it in the air – some kind of suspended disbelief. We’re barely halfway to a table before a voice calls my name. Lauren is approaching at speed, looking worried.

                “What’s happened?” I demand. She glances round and motions me to follow her out. I sigh, because I am actually quite hungry, but she doesn’t really leave me with a lot of choice. Christina, Will and Al watch me go, but as Uriah is heading for them at an actual run, I can only assume he’s planning to fill them in too. “What’s going on?” I repeat as soon as the doors swing closed behind us. Lauren checks but there’s nobody in sight. I don’t know what she’s making a secret of. It’s fairly obvious that whatever’s going on is common knowledge.

                “Eric’s been arrested,” she says, speaking very fast. “There has been an incident involving one of the initiates – Peter.” I grit my teeth.

                “What did he do?”

                “Peter’s in Medical. Eric really hurt him. The guards followed all the screaming to the transfer initiates training room to find Eric literally using him as a punching bag. They placed him under arrest immediately.”

                “Where is he?” I ask. I am surprised to hear my own voice – it’s so calm. But I’m so angry it’s like a white-hot ball has replaced my heart. She looks surprised.

                “I don’t know that I can –“

                “If you don’t tell me, I will ask the guards,” I retort. “And I’d rather keep this as private as I can.” She sighs.

                “He’s being held in the cells – if you go along this corridor right to the end and then turn left. Follow that until you reach a crossroads and take the right-hand path. Then there’s a flight of stairs at the end. Max and Four are probably down there but I doubt they’ll let you see him –“ I leave her talking to the air as I move along the corridor as fast as I can. I’ll kill him myself, sod whatever consequences Max might be planning for him. I’ll murder him with my own bare hands.

 

It’s like he doesn’t listen to a single word I say. I told him not to do anything, I told him to leave it to me. I was so clear, I was so abundantly fucking clear that he was not to interfere. I’m nearly blind with rage by the time I get to the cells. I pass a few doors before I come across two guards who exchange glances before blocking my way.

                “Sorry,” one of them says, looking curiously at my face, “but access is restricted.”

                “Is Max here?” I demand, working very hard to stop my voice shaking. “Get him.” The younger guard glances at the older one, who nods almost imperceptibly. The younger man opens the door behind him and slips through.

                “You’ll have to wait here,” the older guard says, scrutinising my face closely. “I thought physical training had finished for initiates.”

                “It has,” I snap. He asks me nothing further, and I wait impatiently. Max comes out looking annoyed, and leads me into the closest room. He snaps the lights on and gestures at one of the chairs the room holds.

                “I wondered how long it would be until you put in an appearance. Eric is being very taciturn about all this. May I safely assume that Peter is the one responsible for your attack?” I nod, as there’s no point in denying it now. “Did you tell him?” I snort, and regret it immediately when it makes my nose give a stabbing protest.

                “Did I fuck,” I respond. “I was very careful about _not_ telling him, for this exact reason. It came up on my fear sim. I told him not to be a dick, but he has obviously elected not to listen. Can I see him?” Max sighs.

                “Before you do – and no, I don’t plan to stop you – I asked you in my office just this morning if you and Eric were somehow involved –“

                “No,” I interrupt. “You asked me if there was something going on. I said no and I meant it.”

                “Tris, you do understand how this looks? I heard you had a screaming row in the dining hall. The rumours are wild in the extreme. Now I have Eric under arrest for apparently attempting to defend your honour.” I grit my teeth.

                “If Eric and I were building up to something – and that is a very big if – he’s blown it with this stupid revenge incident. And it wouldn’t have been a row if he was capable of listening to clear instructions. Can I see him now?” Max nods.

                “Yes. Follow me.”

 

He leads me past the guards and down a long corridor. The cells are small, containing only a ledge covered with a thin rubber mattress. The last is Eric’s. He’s sitting on it, arms folded, staring at the opposite wall. Four is stationed directly outside, as if Eric might be able to get through the iron bars.

                “You’ve got a visitor,” Max announces. “Four, let’s give them a minute.” Four meets my eyes, and doesn’t argue. He walks down the corridor and Max, after a worried glance at me, follows him. I step up to the bars, and Eric finally looks up. He groans.

                “How do you get everyone to do whatever you want them to?” he asks, but there’s no fight in his voice.

                “If I knew, I’d tell you. What the fuck, Eric?”

                “He deserved every single blow I landed,” he retorts. “I don’t regret it.”

                “I do. I asked you to leave it to me. I asked you not to do anything. Why didn’t you listen to me?”

                “You – he – he was fucking laughing about it, Tris.”

                “Do you think I care?” I demand. “Do you think I give a shit what he was doing and how you think that justifies what you did?”

                “Does everyone know what I did?”

                “Well, it’s damn sure everyone’s talking about your being locked up. Lauren told me that you were using him as a punching bag.” I see his smirk and it enrages me. “Don’t you fucking smile about this,” I hiss. “You’ve made me look weak. You’ve made me look stupid. You’ve made it look like I need someone to fight my battles for me.”

                “No, I made it look like you have powerful friends.”

                “You are not my friend!” I retort. “If you were my friend, you would have listened to me and respected my wishes that you let me deal with it.” He sighs, and rests his head against the wall.           

                “Why did you come here?” he asks me.

                “I came to yell at you. And I came to ask you why you ignored me and went to revenge yourself despite the fact that I specifically asked you not to.”

                “You really want to know?” he asks.

                “I’m not in the habit of wasting my breath on questions I don’t want the answers to.” He gets up then, and moves towards me. He wraps his hands around mine where they rest on the bars.

                “I did it because I care about you,” he says, looking down at me. “Deeply.”

 

Well, that certainly wasn’t what I was expecting. I look up at him, his face half hidden in the shadows.

                “If you cared, you’d have listened,” I contradict. “You wouldn’t have done this if you gave a damn about anyone but yourself.” He throws himself away from me, growling in frustration.

                “You accuse me of not listening, but you don’t do it yourself!” he shouts. “I’ve been trying to tell you for days, Tris – I love you!” I gasp and he seems to realise what he’s said because he covers his mouth as if he could stop the words reaching me, or claim them back.

                “You what?” I whisper.

                “I didn’t mean to say that,” he mutters. “It’s not how I planned – I wanted to – I saw you in that hospital bed, Tris, and I was terrified. I thought I was going to see you die in front of me and I felt the fear in my heart. I’ve never been so frightened in my life. All I wanted to do was wrap you up tight and never let anyone hurt you again, never even let anyone _touch_ you again.” I’m silent, shock soaking into my bones as I process what he’s just said to me. He comes back to the bars. “Please say something,” he says, his voice low and deep, his eyes burning into me. He reaches his hands back out to take mine but I pull them away, staring at him.

                “I asked you not to do this,” I repeat. “But you did it anyway.” He nods.

                “I did. I don’t regret doing it – he put his hands on you, he hurt you and he damn near killed you. So even though it’s upset you, I don’t regret it and I can’t apologise for it. He had to pay the price, Tris. He had to know that nobody touches you.”

                “It wasn’t your price to set,” I tell him. “It was mine.”

                “I want to protect you!” he exclaims.

                “I wish you wouldn’t,” I whisper. “I really wish you wouldn’t.”

 

And I walk away from him because I can’t bear it, I can’t bear the way he’s looking at me – as if I’ve slapped him, or worse. I don’t respond to Max and Four asking me if I’m OK, I just go because I have to get out of this place. I feel like I’m suffocating, like the walls are closing in around me. I must have air and even though by the time I reach the roof I am in horrible, brutal pain, I drink in great gasps of air as I process this information: Eric loves me. And I do not know what to do about it, or how to feel, and suddenly I am entirely alone and entirely certain that I am going mad.


	26. Wise Counsel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four finds Tris on the roof and counsels her a little, in an attempt to mend a few fences.

_SEPTEMBER 12 TH – 2ND DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE TWO (NIGHT)_

I’ve been up there for hours by the time Four tracks me down. It has grown dark around me and the stars are stretched above me like a scarf of glittering gauze has been unfurled. I glance back when the door opens but I don’t speak to him, returning to the stars.

                “You’ll get cold,” he says gently. I don’t respond. “You had a fairly serious operation, and your risk of infection is raised in consequence. Come back inside.”

                “Not ready yet.”

                “Alright. You want to talk about it?”

                “Not really.” I shoot a glance at him. “So, what are you doing here?” I ask.

                “Came to make sure you weren’t going to jump.” I smile slightly at the reminder of the last time we met up here.

                “Nope. I was just working out a plan about how best to go about throwing Eric off.” Four sighs.

                “Tris, I don’t know what’s going on with the two of you and frankly I don’t think I particularly _want_ to know. But I’ve known Eric a long time now and I haven’t ever seen him like this.”

                “Max said something very similar. I didn’t know what he meant and I don’t know what you mean. Why don’t you just say whatever you came up here to say? I’m sick of trying to figure out these damn riddles.”

                “Fair enough. I came up here to tell you that Eric’s a moron. He’s an act first and ask questions later guy, he’s impulsive and does stupid shit without considering the consequences. All this is a prime example. Having said that though, I believe that in this case he had the best of intentions and genuinely believed that he was doing the right thing by you.”

                “Did he ask you to do this?”

                “No, he doesn’t know I came.”

                “Even if he did have the best of intentions I don’t think he understands what he’s actually done,” I say. “He’s taken the one thing I had left away – the ability to reclaim a bit of power. I was attacked fairly brutally, they got the better of me despite the training scores, and then they left me for dead. All I could have done then to regain a bit of position was to attack back or just ignore it – I hadn’t quite decided which I was going to do but one of those. But in going after them, he’s made me look incapable. He’s made me look weak, unable to defend myself. This won’t make things easier, because even if he and I both announce that he acted in direct defiance of my wishes, people will always doubt it. People will always think that I set him up to it. What will that do for me? I was first ranked, above even the Dauntless born, I’d shown everyone that I could hold my own against everyone despite who I was before and where I came from. Now people will wonder if I really earned that. He might have thought he was helping, but he hasn’t. And he won’t see it, and he won’t listen when I try and tell him.” Four listens to this rant in silence and then speaks.

                “Feel better for having got all that off your chest?” I grunt but nod anyway. I do actually. “Look here, Tris, I’ve made the executive decision that this is the sort of thing that I should stay well out of. I mean, I’m here if you need to talk, but otherwise I’m not going to interfere. All I have to say is this: you have every right to be angry with him. But, when you’re done being angry with him, maybe try talking to him – calmly. You might find you see things differently.”

                “My mother used to tell me that everything would look better in the morning. Not that we were encouraged to be angry in Abnegation. Anger is selfish.”

                “I don’t think so. I think it makes us human. And it might take a bit longer than the morning to look at this in a new light but you will eventually.”

                “How do you know?”

                “You aren’t the type of girl to stay angry. You don’t hold grudges or sulk. You have a temper, certainly – but it’s hot not cold. It blows up quickly, but it dies quickly too. You don’t nurse it for days and days and let it get a grip on you. You’re more like Eric than you realise.”

                “Well that certainly isn’t going to help me calm down,” I retort but there’s no heat to it. I even have to stop myself smiling.                

                “Maybe not. But if the two of you do end up starting something, it will be nothing but interesting to watch.” He’s silent for a while. “Are you done up here?” he asks.

                “I suppose so. It is quite cold, I guess.”

                “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”

                “Before you do – what’s going to happen to Eric?” I ask.

                “Peter has elected not to press any charges so he’ll be released in the morning. Max thinks he could use the time to dwell on everything.”

                “What would have happened if Peter had pressed charges?”

                “Eric would have been formally charged, then it would have come to trial. A Dauntless trial, unless he requested a formal Candor one, and normally the punishment for an attack that bad is a few years imprisonment.”

                “If I wanted to – despite Eric’s own brand of justice – could I still pursue charges? Against Peter, I mean.”

                “Of course. Do you want to?”

                “I’m not sure. Do I have to decide now?” He shakes his head.

                “Not at all.” I straighten up and look at him.

                “I’ll think about it. Come on, you can walk me home.”

 

We don’t speak on the walk back and when we reach the door he looks down at me.

                “Have you been to Medical yet?”

                “Oh fuck.”

                “I’m guessing that’s a no,” he says, smiling faintly. “How are you feeling?”

                “Like I want to go to bed,” I sigh.

                “Go on,” he says, jerking his head at the door. “I’ll go and report to the doctor that you aren’t on the verge of death. And I won’t tell Eric – as long as you promise me faithfully you’ll be there before breakfast tomorrow and you won’t miss any other appointment – regardless of what might distract you.”

                “Oh, I promise. And thanks for saying you won’t tell Eric.”

                “Good night,” he says. He turns and wanders off down the corridor, and I fumble for my key. I unlock the door and step in. Will is still up, staring off into space. I don’t think he even notices my arrival, given the way he jumps when I touch his shoulder.

                “You OK?” I ask.

                “Fear sims,” he grunts, running a hand over his face. “Fucking head bend of a sim.”

                “You want to go to bed?” I ask, gesturing at the door. “It’s pretty late.”

                “Yeah. Actually – have you just got back?”

                “Yeah.”

                “Did you go and see Eric – is it true? That he was arrested for beating seven shades of shit out of Peter?”            

                “It’s true. And yes, I went to see him.”

                “Y’know, there’s a rumour that he did it for you.”

                “You shouldn’t listen to rumours. They’re rarely based in fact. I’m going to bed, even if you aren’t.”

 

He follows me, after giving me a decent amount of time to change. I slide into bed and position myself after swallowing my painkillers and the sleeping pill because I know that without I will lie awake for hours, thinking about Eric and what he said to me, and what that might mean. I don’t want it to mean anything – or do I? Would I prefer that he does mean it? Under the irritation, what lies there? He had no right to do it. But the kisses – those kisses. What could I forgive under the fireworks that his touch awakes in me? I shouldn’t have had the pill. Maybe I do want to think about it. But the darkness pulls me under even as Will is getting ready for bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just two today as they dovetail nicely together! As always, thank you all so much for the continued support :)
> 
> I hope nobody hates me now....


	27. The Tales Fear Can Tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris’ darkest secrets begin to bleed out and she seizes an opportunity to weaken Peter’s links with his Faction.

_SEPTEMBER 13 TH – 3RD DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE TWO (MORNING)_

 

It isn’t until breakfast that I see Peter. I’ve been to Medical and been told off for missing the appointment last night, had my dressings changed and injuries examined. I’m sent away with the reminder that I shouldn’t do anything silly and take things as easily as I can. I managed to persuade the others to let me go alone and as a result I am alone when I meet Peter outside the dining hall. He too is alone, looking oddly small without Drew and Molly beside him like two bookends. He looks up at me, but quickly his face is turned back to the floor. But it’s long enough for me to see the damage.

 

It’s worse than mine, that’s for sure. He ducks into the dining hall before I can say a word to him, and I follow, taking a certain vicious pleasure in the fact that he appears afraid to be alone with me. Christina and the others are fairly close to the doors this time, and people are too busy goggling at Peter to pay very much attention to me. My bashed up face is apparently old news. I slip in with them and pile eggs, toast and a couple of bacon rashers onto my plate. The other’s are all too busy staring at Peter to pay much attention to me.

                “Fuck me,” Will mutters, “he looks horrendous. Eric really went for him.”

                “Speaking of,” Christina says, gesturing behind me with her fork. “Looks like they let him out.” I glance round. Eric has slipped in almost unnoticed and has joined Max and Four in a dark corner.

                “He’s seriously going to just get away with this?” Al mutters.

                “Peter chose not to press charges,” I inform them.

                “Oh. Eric’s looking at you,” Christina tells me. I don’t turn around.

                “He can look at me all he wants. He’s not getting a response.” Glances are exchanged.

                “Have you had another argument with him?” Will asks.

                “When do I not have an argument with him?”

                “That’s a good point,” Christina says, gesturing at me with her fork. “What’s going on with the two of you, anyway?”

                “You’re the third person to ask me that, and I’ll give you the answer I gave Max and Four – there’s nothing going on. He hates me, I hate him.”

                “Nonsense,” Christina says bluntly.

                “You can call nonsense all you like,” I say sweetly. “But if Eric and I have a relationship, it’s that we’re in mutual hatred. Now, shall we go? I don’t want to tell Four we’re late because gossip kept us back.”

 

Eric is in the training room, but I ignore him completely. I go up to Four before he can start calling names out.

                “I’d like to speak to you – in private, if possible – about training.” He gives me a sharp look, but ushers me into one of the sim rooms and closes the door.

                “What can I do for you?” he asks.

                “I want to train with you,” I say, bluntly. “Not Eric. From now on, I would prefer if you or Lauren or someone else administers my simulations.”

                “Can I ask why?” he says, carefully.

                “You know why,” I say. “I don’t want anyone who could disregard me so blatantly seeing me so vulnerable.”

                “And if I tell you that I can’t fit you in, and that I can’t condone this?”

                “Then I’ll deal with it. But it would be my preference not to have to.” He nods.

                “Very well. Go back out.” He pokes his head out after me and calls Eric in.

 

Thirty seconds, that’s all it takes for the shouting to start. The doors are too thick to make out more than one or two words every now and again, but nothing makes any sense. Max comes in after a few minutes, and we all look at him.  He gives us all a smile before flicking his eyes to the closed door.

                “You look like a bunch of school-children who are pretending to work after being left unsupervised. What’s all that shouting?”

                “It’s Eric and Four,” Lynn informs him. Max rolls his eyes.

                “For God’s sake it’s like running a crèche.” He stomps over and flings open the door, letting it slam behind him. The shouting stops abruptly, and Eric storms out, not looking at anyone, just barrelling straight through the door that leads out of the sim rooms. Four emerges a minute later, followed by Max.

                “Tris, go with Max, Molly come with me,” he snaps. I follow Max into the same sim room I used yesterday and hop into the chair.

                “You seem more mobile this morning,” Max says, looking at me closely.

                “Feel it. Still burns like a bitch when I raise my arms though.”

                “Well then, don’t raise your arms.” I laugh. “You need a refresher on the procedure?”

                “Nope.”

 

The sim is the same as yesterday. But this time, because I think I know what’s coming, I try and find a different approach. I don’t leap into the Chasm this time, I fight. My fists pass through Peter, but I can block him. It ends when I manage to slow my heartrate – and I find myself back in the chair. Max is frowning at the monitors.

                “Did this happen yesterday too?” he asks. I have to school my face into looking casual, and have to hope it works.

                “Which bit? It’s the same sim, yeah. Peter, the Chasm, he tries to hurt me. But yesterday I got out of it by jumping into the Chasm.”

                “And it just ended?”

                “Yeah. Eric wasn’t sure what was happening with it, he thought maybe because I did something that would have killed me, it just threw me out.”

                “No, that’s not how it works. How many fears do you think are in that sim?” I think about this, rubbing my fingers a little. I think I might have put my splint on too tightly.

                “Well, I figure it’s not literal, because I’m not afraid of Peter. I guess it’s feeling powerless, and trapped, and defenceless. Because I can’t hurt him or run away from him in the sim, so I think it’s that.”

                “Three fears. You see, once you calmed your heart rate down there, the next fear should have kicked in. You only have three fears.”

                “Is that weird?”

                “Most initiates have at least twenty. The current – or should I say previous record – was four fears.” He looks at me. “Maybe we should change your name to Three.”

                “Four? That’s where he got his name?”

                “Yeah. He’ll be mighty pissed to hear someone’s beaten his record. Are your fingers OK?” I look down at them, a little surprised that he’s noticed the action.

                “Yeah, I think so. Bit tingly. I think I’ve put my splint on too tight.” He takes my hand and presses.

                “Does it hurt?”

                “No. Just my fingertips, you know. Feels like the very beginning of pins and needles.”

                “Want me to rewrap it for you?”

                “Please. I can do it myself but look what a mess I made of that this morning.” He repositions the splint and it feels a little better.

                “If it doesn’t improve, go report to Medical. And you’re done in here. Don’t feel wobbly?”

                “Feel fine,” I say, shrugging.

                “Then I guess you’re done for the day. If you’re going to keep whipping through these sims so fast, we’re going to have to find something for you to do with all your time. You’ll get bored.”

                “I’m already bored. At this point I’d run errands.”

                “I’ll bear it in mind if we need an office girl. You can hang about here and wait for your friends, or you can go back to your quarters. It’s up to you.”

 

I decide to hang about. When I get back out, it earns me some raised eyebrows – Molly isn’t back out yet, and I realise that I must have been quick again. I sit down by Christina.

                “You’re done already?”

                “Yeah, tell you later,” I mutter. “Do you have an order you do this in or is it potluck?”

                “Potluck normally.” Max sticks his head out.

                “Al!” Al jumps up and goes, already pale.

                “What are you planning then?” she asks, leaning back in her chair. I’m not really paying attention to her. Almost directly opposite me is Peter. He’s studying the toe of his right boot, not looking at or speaking to anyone. Much as Molly did yesterday, Drew is not sitting with him. He’s a few to my left, staring that the walls. He is unharmed I notice, not a spot on him. Perhaps Eric did listen to me a little when I said he wasn’t as involved as Peter. “Tris?”

                “Hmm? Oh, sorry. I don’t know. Max said I could hang around until you guys were done, so I guess I’ll do that. If it’s OK, anyway.” She shrugs.

                “OK by me. Be nice knowing you’re here I think, so we can all gather in afterwards. Can I ask what you said to Four earlier?”

                “I just requested that Eric didn’t administer my sims anymore.”

                “Oh.”

 

She doesn’t comment further and I pass the time by picking at my splint and thinking. This stuff with the Sims is obviously out of the common, and I have enough sense to realise that I must be on very shaky ground. Tori had to put in my test results manually, and she had to do that because I didn’t _get_ a result. I am Divergent, something strange and frightening and odd. I do not fit here, despite how well I’ve managed to do at pretending. I know so little about it, that’s the worst of it – I don’t know why people are so frightened of Divergents and why people find them threatening. Is it because I can’t be labelled? Is it because I cannot be categorised? I can’t exactly go to anyone and ask them for advice. But equally, I cannot let anyone know that I am wondering what is happening with me – or what might happen to me. I must find a way, somehow, to fake my way through the final tests. I must use this time, this training time, to practise my reactions, to learn to fight the Sim in a way a Dauntless would, and above all, I must do it without arousing any more suspicion than I may have already done.

 

Max cannot be trusted, I’m almost sure of that. Something in his eyes – something about how he looks at me doesn’t sit right, it feels uneasy, as if he might have already guessed who I am and what I am doing. Divergence is dangerous. I am Divergent. And briefly, I have to wonder how Eric would react, if he ever found out the secret. 

 

Molly staggers out of the sim room after about twenty minutes, her face sickly white and clammy. She leaves without looking at anyone, even though Drew looks up and tries to catch her eye. I make my decision very quickly.

                “Tell Al to wait here, I’ll come back,” I mutter to Christina. Before she can object or question me, I get up and follow Molly. She hasn’t gone far – she’s vomiting into a planter. I reach her, and pull her hair off her face. She doesn’t even question it. When she’s finished, and all her heaves produce is spit and bile, I flag down a passing guard. He looks between us and the plant pot and wrinkles his nose a little.

                “Fear sims?” he asks. I nod and he sighs. “OK, no worries. I’ll get it cleaned up. Thanks for at least not getting it all over the floor. Better get some water into her,” he advises. “And if you go to the dining hall and ask the staff for biscuits, they’ll help too.” He starts to walk away.

                “Cheers,” I call after him, and Molly gasps. She staggers away from me a little. “Don’t,” I say. “I’m not going to hurt you – and even if I wanted to, I’m hardly in the condition to do so. Come on.” She doesn’t fight me off. She follows me meekly to the dining hall, and I park her at a secluded table. Even though the place is basically deserted, it’s still a fairly frequent through-route for people hurrying from one end of Dauntless to the other. I nip over to the kitchen hatch and explain the fear sims have caused someone to vomit, and do they have anything that might cheer her up or make her feel a bit better. I get friendly smiles and they give me a cup of peppermint tea and a plate of ginger biscuits. I carry this back to Molly and set them both in front of her. She stares at them.

                “Why are you doing this?” she mutters.

                “Because I know I’d want someone to help me out if I’d just chucked half my breakfast into a plant pot.”

                “Thanks,” she mutters, taking a biscuit and nibbling it. “Tris – I – I swear I didn’t know.”

                “I know you didn’t. Your face when I came into breakfast yesterday told me that much.”

                “He was angry about the rankings. So was I, really, but I just figured hey, do better at stage two. Once I thought about it too, I realised that you had actually tried really hard and you did deserve the place you got. Peter and Drew were muttering together in our rooms but I didn’t think anything of it. Then at the party I went back early and when they got back Peter was laughing and joking about you getting what you deserved and how the roar of the water was so good at drowning things out, but Drew looked _awful_ about something and he was so pale and I realised that they must have done something. When they both went to bed, I crept out and told one of the guards that Max was wanted by the Chasm. I didn’t dare go myself; I was scared about what I might find, so I hid until Max ran past me. Then a guard ran past me and then a little after that I saw Eric and Four running so I knew they must have found you.” Molly pours all this out at top speed and I have to consider it for a minute or so before it makes sense to me.

                “You sending Max when you did probably saved my life,” I say, abruptly. “My spleen ruptured. If I’d still been lying there I would have bled to death. I don’t blame you for this.”

                “I should have stopped them.”

                “It’s a bit late to think of that,” I say, briskly. “And you said yourself, you didn’t know. Look at me, Molly.” It obviously takes some effort but she does so. “This happened. It would have happened anyway, even if you had stopped them that night. Are you safe sharing a room with them?” She nods.

                “Safe, yes. Comfortable, no.”

                “Talk to Four,” I say. “Or Max. Or even Eric. They’ll get you out of there, if they can.”

                “Why would you care about me?” she demands, pushing her empty mug away from her. “I’ve never been nice to you.”

                “No, you haven’t. But I don’t hold grudges about stuff. I have better things to do than hold onto anger. And anyway, right now my anger is best spent directed elsewhere. If you want, I will speak to Four about getting you a different room.”

                “I’ll speak to him.”

                “Alright. If you need someone to sit with at lunch and in the sim rooms, you can join us. Drew too, although he and I still need to have a serious conversation.”        

                “I’ll tell him,” she says. “He feels awful. I – I really don’t think Peter told him what the plan was. He swears he just thought they were going to give you a scare, just jump out at you.” I nod.

                “I figured, when he wouldn’t look at me either. Tell him, if you like, that I don’t plan to hurt him or do anything. I just want to speak to him.” She nods.

                “I will. And thanks – for saying we can sit with you.”

                “No problem,” I return, standing up. “I’m going to get back to the others. Will you be OK by yourself?”

                “Yeah. I want to think about stuff.”

 

I leave her and return, to find Al and Christina are both done and Will is being seen to by Four. I sit back down to wait for them, and then insist we return to our room. They’re not going to like what I have to say, and I’ve had enough public rows to last me a lifetime.


	28. How To Make Alliances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris makes a startling request of her friends and whilst they consider it, studies ‘How to Masturbate’ in detail, picking up some hints and tips about self-pleasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘How to Masturbate’ is as much a work of fiction as this story. It is a source of scientific guidance, a literal how-to guide as opposed to an erotic romp. It will later tie in with a book Eric owns.

_SEPTEMBER 13 TH – 3RD DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE TWO (LATE MORNING)_

 

                “Sorry Tris,” says Al, slowly and clearly, as if he’s speaking to a small child, “but are you saying that you expect us to be friendly with Molly and Drew?”

                “Not friendly,” I answer. “Unless you want to be, anyway. I am _asking_ you to be civil to them, especially to Molly. She didn’t know about this and it isn’t fair to leave her to the wolf that is Peter. If she isn’t alone, she’s less of a target. Peter is a vicious bully. He will make a target of her sooner rather than later and I won’t let anyone go through what I did if it’s in my power to prevent it. Isolate the queen and the hive will die. Can you do this for me?”

                “I don’t know,” Will says. “In terms of Drew, anyway. I agree with you about Molly. But for God’s sake, Tris, Drew was there when Peter beat the shit out of you! He helped! He landed some of the blows, almost certainly anyway. And now you want us to be mates?”

                “I’m not saying _mates_. And Drew and I will sort out our own issues before I ask anything of you. It will all depend on what he has to say for himself. But Molly was not involved in this and she does not deserve to be shunned. Look, I’m not asking you to do anything beyond be civil – let her join us for meals and sit with us for the wait in the sim room. I’m not asking that you all become best friends forever and start braiding each other’s hair. But I understand if this is too much, and if you can’t do it I won’t judge you. And on top of that, there’s always the old saying – keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

                “So you want to keep an eye on them?”

                “To an extent, yes. I need the toilet,” I say, standing up from the settee and making for the door. “So you can discuss it if you like without me listening in. When I’m done in the toilet, I’ll sit on my bed for a bit – I’ve got a bit of reading I’d like to do so that can also give you all some time.”

 

I remain in the bedroom for some time, buried in _How to Masturbate._ I pile up all my pillows so I can lean back, and settle down for a good long read.

 

_CHAPTER ONE: SOME SIMPLE GUIDANCE_

_The most important thing to remember when beginning the exploration of your own sexual pleasure is that if it feels good to you, do it. What works for one woman may not work for another, and what one woman finds deeply arousing may be a complete turn-off for another. The idea is that you find out what arouses you and then develop on it until you find your “thing”._

_In order to find out what feels good to you, much experimentation will be necessary. Get to know your own body – find the spots that make you shiver with delight, find the places that make you flinch a little. Learn your body intimately – use a mirror, if you like, to look at yourself and find the good bits._

_In order for this to be achieved with maximum results, we highly recommend you find a place where you cannot be interrupted or disturbed. It might be best to wait until you’re home alone or at least at the other end of the house! Take your time – while quick results are sometimes desirable, your first masturbatory efforts should not be rushed or skimped. You should be comfortable enough to explore for several minutes, perhaps even as much as an hour. The first few times you explore, don’t worry about achieving orgasm – worry about working out where to touch and what to avoid. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do._

_Lubricant is your friend. The first few times, you will almost certainly use too much, so keep a towel handy! Fortunately, most lubricant is non-staining. We recommend that you use water-based lubes, as oil-based ones can sometimes be very hard to remove. As an aside, some oil-based lubes are not designed to be used with condoms as some can damage the latex. If you are using condoms with your toys, double-check that the lube is suitable. Most lubes will note if there may be negative effects on latex._

_On the subject of toys, it is worth remembering that quantity does not necessarily equal quality! One or two well-chosen items may bring far more pleasure than several random items that are rarely used. Of course, like all other masturbatory practises, what matters is what works for you. You might find you don’t like or need toys at all, and that is as fine as if you find you want several toys and accessories. Still, starting slowly is always advisable, so don’t spend lots at once in the very beginning – especially as toys can’t be returned!_

_Masturbation will always go well if you are relaxed and not under any time pressure – at least at first. Wait until you have plenty of time to take your time. Many women find that in the beginning, they do better if they are aroused before the physicality begins. There are numerous ways to become aroused – erotic fiction, fantasising about someone or a certain situation, watching pornography or looking at explicit imagery. Finding out what works for you, like everything else, will be a process. This is fine and again, should not be rushed._

_This book aims to teach women about the vast array of possibilities available to them. We hope to discuss the process of masturbation in an open, frank way. Our mission is to show all women that masturbation is natural, enjoyable and above all, nothing to be ashamed of! We wish you all the best in your journey and we hope this book helps._

_CHAPTER TWO: THE CLITORIS_

 

_Many women will struggle to orgasm from penetration alone, although some can do so. The majority require clitoral, nipple or other external stimulation in order to climax and this chapter focuses primarily on clitoral stimulation._

_Prolonged, heavy or rough stimulation can leave the clitoris sore or even bleeding. This is something that we would recommend that you avoid, as it can cause infections or deep-tissue bruising that can take some time to heal. It can be overwhelming to directly manipulate the clitoris and some women prefer to stroke or rub around it instead. The labia and clitoral hood are also very sensitive and, especially for those new to self-pleasure, are often sufficient to provide orgasm. If the clitoris is directly stimulated, the touch should start lightly, perhaps in small circles. An up-and-down motion can be uncomfortable and feel like something is “clicking” back and forth. Side-to-side or small circles kept tight over the clitoris itself, is often found to be the most pleasurable motion._

_Vibrators can be used to enhance the sensation. If you have never used a vibrator before, a “bullet” vibe is the most recommended, or a vibe that can have its speed and intensity adjusted. We recommend that you do not start with direct clitoral stimulation if it is your first time using a vibrator, as this might be rather startling in effect! Stroking the vibe (switched on) up and down the labia, tracing around the clitoris in a gentle motion, would probably produce the best and most pleasurable effect. It may be less intensive to use your vibe on the pulse setting instead of constant vibrations. Again, it is all about experimentation and what feels good to you is the right thing!_

_We spoke very briefly earlier about things that may cause your clitoris pain. Prolonged and intensive clitoral stimulation – mechanical or manual! – may temporarily cause some numbness or reduced sensation. This should be temporary and will pass. If you find that you are experiencing this, perhaps refrain from masturbation or clitoral stimulation for a few days, by which time you should be back to normal. However, if you’re not, and if you’re worried, we do recommend you consult your doctor. You will know your own body better than anyone, so if you are afraid there is something wrong and a break does not improve the situation, consider seeking medical advice._

_Remember that finding out what works for you is the most important thing, because if you can’t pleasure yourself, you can’t tell partners what does and doesn’t work. See Chapter Eight for “Talking to Your Partner”._

_CHAPTER THREE: YOUR G-SPOT AND YOU_

_The G-spot is a point inside a woman’s vagina. Not all women have one that can be felt or utilized and this is completely normal. For those women who do have one, and can find it, it can cause very intense orgasms and perhaps female ejaculation or “squirting”._

_If you do have a G-spot, it can be found inside the vagina itself, about two or three centimetres in, on the upper wall. The easiest way to determine if you have one is to insert one or two fingers into the vagina and make a “come hither” motion. This may be difficult and experimenting with different positioning of both the body and hand will almost certainly be necessary. We’ve found that the best position is to kneel, lowering the torso onto pillows or just the floor, and then using your hand to explore. The G-spot may feel raised and slightly bumpy, and feel spongier than the walls themselves._

_Stimulating the G-spot can lead to more intense orgasms and as mentioned, female ejaculation. Female ejaculation can be called squirting, as it involves a gush of liquid arousal from the vagina which can squirt out some distance. This can sometimes be mistaken for urine, but as the liquid is clear and smells nothing like urine, we doubt this claim is correct. While few women can squirt, it is not wrong or weird and if it is normal for you then you have nothing to be embarrassed about._

_The come-hither motion is often described as the best way to stimulate the G-spot manually. Using the above mentioned position of hands and knees has the added advantage of being able to use the palm of your hand to stimulate the clitoris. You can also manually stimulate the G-spot by using a simple back and forth motion, although this may take longer and may be less effective._

_Many toys are designed with G-spot stimulation in mind, including the Flutter, an ‘egg-and-spoon’ shaped toy that stimulates both clitoris and G-spot. This has the advantage of being usable while lying on your back or side and leaves your hands free to play with your nipples or other erogenous zones._

There is a knock at the door, and I drop the book in my shock. I’d become so buried in it I’d completely lost all track of time and location. I tuck the book under the many pillows as Al comes in, hoping my face doesn’t look too shell-shocked or red. The book is astonishingly frank and detailed, and surprisingly helpful. I was expecting – well, I’m not sure, really. Something less detailed, that’s for sure.

                “You OK?” he asks, looking at me speculatively. “You look a little flushed.”

                “Oh, I’m fine. I was a bit buried in the book, you startled me. You guys all done?”

                “We are, and I have been appointed as our spokesman. We’re prepared to give Molly a chance, but not Drew. Not yet anyway. We want you to speak to him first. If you choose to forgive him then we’ll respect your decision on that front. But we want you to make that choice.” I nod.

                “Thank you. I appreciate it, Al, really I do. Thank you!” I call out, and a couple of grunts answer me. I turn my attention back to Al. “I’ll speak to Drew as soon as I can. I told Molly to tell him that I wanted to speak to him.” Even as I finish the sentence, there’s a knock at the front door of our apartment. Not five seconds later, Will pokes his head in.

                “You have a guest,” he announces, looking at me.

                “Is it Drew? I didn’t expect he’d come so soon –“ I’m swinging my legs round as I talk, prepared to get up and take him off somewhere for a good talk. 

                “It’s not Drew. It’s Eric.” I shake my head and resettle on the bed.

                “Nope.” Will and Al exchange raised eyebrows, but Will retreats. There’s some muffled cursing then the sound of the door closing before Will returns.

                “I’m to give you this, apparently,” he says, handing me an envelope. I take it and shove it under my pillow. “Shall we – lunch, anyone?” That sounds like a plan to me, so I get up and follow him out, Al hot on my heels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit later than normal today, as my little girl had a bit of a bad night and morning, which is very unlike her!
> 
> However, I hope you all enjoy this update and that it meets with approval :)


	29. Letters From The Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric attempts to make amends and Tris ponders on who Eric really is, and what he means to her.

_SEPTEMBER 13 TH – 3RD DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE TWO (AFTERNOON)_

 

Drew does not appear for lunch, but Molly does. I’ve sat down with my back to the door, but Christina sees her and starts beckoning. I turn, and see Molly dithering. I call her name, add my own gestures to Christina’s and she comes over, apprehension practically oozing out of her.

                “Join us,” Christina says, gesturing at the empty seat beside me. “If you like to, anyway.” Molly slips into the seat and helps herself to food, keeping her head well down. I mouth a thank you to Christina and turn to her.

                “Hello again, Molly.”

                “Hello,” she mutters, so quietly I barely catch it.

                “You don’t have to be nervous,” I say, but I know it will take some time. Christina never made a secret of not liking her and probably knows several things about her given they both came from Candor. I vaguely remember her saying that Molly was the type to fry ants with a magnifying glass just to watch them suffer. I have to wonder how much of it was her and how much was the company she kept.

 

Nobody talks much at all during the oddly awkward, silent lunch. When Molly lifts her head to ask for water, Christina pours it for her, sliding the glass over and saying nothing. I didn’t hope for friendship but I hoped for more than this. Only at the end does the conversation slowly start to bloom, and the subject matter makes me wish they’d all go back to being silent.

                “Eric’s here, Tris,” Will informs me.

                “Why do you insist on giving me a run down every single time he appears? For all I care he can go jump into the Chasm.”

                “Well, he’s looking at you again.”

                “Good for him.”               

                “Um – why are you angry with him?” Molly ventures to ask, looking at me.

                “He took something of mine. Something that can’t be returned.” She looks confused, and Christina leans over.

                “Peter,” she says, and understanding dawns on Molly’s face.

                “Oh.” She toys with her food for a moment before looking back up, but Will speaks before she can.

                “He’s coming over.” I growl in frustration and stand up.

                “Well, this was nice, wish we could have finished it, see you all later,” I say at top speed. I walk away, only to hear him calling my name and coming up behind me. He reaches out and takes my good arm, forcing me to swing round to face him. I say nothing to him.

                “Tris,” he starts, and the plea is in his voice. I rip my arm free even though it hurts my ribs and continue to walk. “Tris!” he shouts. I keep going, because I can’t look at him. I don’t trust myself to look at him. God knows what I’d do. I’d either take a swing at him, probably ripping open stitches and maybe even rebusting a couple of ribs – or worse, I’d end up kissing him.

 

I go back to our rooms, and slide the letter out from under the pillows. His handwriting is oddly square, all printed capitals. I noticed it last time, although that note was a lot rougher. I wonder if this one will be in the same confused vein. I rip it open, because terminal curiosity will one day be the death of me.

 

_Tris,_

_I know you’re angry with me and you have every right to be. Still I cannot apologise for my actions. I want to talk._

_I shouldn’t have said what I said in the cells – but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. I just shouldn’t have said it when I said it and how I said it. That was never my plan. I don’t know what the plan was, but that wasn’t it._

_I don’t even know what this letter is for. I wrote it on the off-chance you wouldn’t see me, so if you’re reading it I guess you refused. Of course you did, or I’d have thrown this into the Chasm. I want – I need to see you. I need to speak to you face to face._

_I won’t insult you by trying to justify what I did. It was what I felt to be the right thing, and I wanted to teach Peter that nobody touches you without your consent. I see that you are angry and I see that you have reason to be. But I stand by what I did. He had to suffer and I made him do that. I don’t think he will make that mistake again, ever._

_I love you. I hope that you can find it in yourself to, if not forgive me, then at least meet me. I will wait from ten-eleven each night on the top floor of the pit, on the right hand side at the far end of the path. I’ll wait for you._

_Eric._

I refold it carefully, and tuck it back into its envelope, which I bury deep in one of my drawers. So I know then, that he meant what he said. I know that if that letter finds its way into anyone’s hands but mine, he’d be furious, and that alone tells me that he decided telling me was worth the risk. So now I don’t know what to do, because underneath the anger I still have is the feeling that I might just – well, is it love? I don’t know. I’ve only ever read about love in books, I’ve never spoken to anyone about it.

 

Is it love if my heart jumps to think about how he kisses me? Is it love if I can still feel his hands on my skin after he grabbed my arm in the dining hall? Is it love if hearing his name makes my stomach clench? Is it love if I daren’t look at him for fear I’ll fall into his arms? Is it love if my chest feels tight when I think about how he held me in Medical, or when I think about how he carried me there after the fight with Christina?

 

But then is it hatred, if my chest feels tight when I remember the knives, and remember that he wouldn’t have had to carry me to Medical if none of that had happened? Is it hatred if I daren’t look at him for fear I’ll swing for him? Is it hatred if hearing his name makes my stomach clench? Is it hatred that keeps his touch burning on me, that keeps his kisses in my head? The feeling is the same. Is it then just passion, an indefinable emotion that crackles between us? How can you tell the difference between passion, love and hate? Or are they all the same thing, all mixed up into one big melting pot that I’m meant to make some sense of?

 

I hate him for getting into my head like this. I just want to train in peace. I just want to train, pass and join Dauntless, to carry on with my new life without complications or angst. Is it too much to ask that I just do that, and only that. I can’t talk to Al about this, this is too much. I daren’t speak to Christina – I don’t think I have the mental strength to deny who we’re talking about. I’m not really close enough to Will to start questioning him and I don’t think this is what Four meant when he said I could talk to him any time if I needed to. Besides I couldn’t face it and Eric would go bonkers if he knew I’d sought guidance from Four about maybe possibly being in love with Eric.

 

And anyway it’s a pointless conversation because I’m not in love with him. I couldn’t be in love with a man who so casually disregards me, who so calmly seeks his own revenge when I wanted the chance to seek my own first. I couldn’t be in love with a man who irritates me so much I can barely even breathe sometimes for the way the rage chokes me. I can’t be in _love_ with a man who once threw knives at me, the man who forced my best friend to dangle above the Chasm as a punishment for supposed cowardice. I couldn’t love a man so temperamental. Didn’t I think about it when I was younger? I suppose I thought I would want to love a man who was good, and kind; a man who could make me laugh and a man who would love me even if I was sometimes slow to help or even selfish. I thought I might love a man who was funny and sweet and handsome.

 

Can I see Eric as any of those things? He’s handsome; there’s no question of that. He can be sweet – carrying me to Medical and the way he stroked my hair when I went to him amid fears of being Factionless. He has been funny, witness the cookie incident when he took them before I did the timed city run. And he seems to love me despite my faults and God knows my failings can be numerous. He has made me laugh, he has been kind – he stayed with me in Medical when I requested he do so. Four says he has good intentions, so perhaps that counts a little way towards being a good man.

 

I don’t know what any of that means. My notions of love are so childish; surely I must need more from a lover than good points? I don’t know anything, I realise. I might love an ideal but those things alone are not Eric. He’s more complicated than that. He’s angry, passionate, intelligent, challenging, irritating, intriguing. He’s fiery, impulsive, a fighter, a soldier. But I don’t know anything about him, not really. I don’t know his favourite foods or his pet hates; his favourite colour or his dislikes. I don’t know what makes him laugh or what makes him sad. I don’t know how he likes to spend his free time or what he likes to do when he’s alone. I don’t know what he wants in a woman or what he loves. I don’t know what makes him angry – apart from me – or what frustrates him. I don’t know if he is tidy or messy, I don’t know if he is creative or logical, I don’t even know if he was born Dauntless or if he transferred here. I don’t know how he became a leader here.

 

He is all but a stranger to me. I cannot forgive him or condemn him because I don’t know enough about him. I go into our living area, pull a pad and pen from the pile someone has left on the coffee table. I return to my room and regard my injured hand thoughtfully. I wonder if I’m healed enough to write. It’s worth a shot I suppose.

 

_Eric,_

_I need time to think, even though just lately I’ve been thinking a lot. I’m still angry with you; you should know that to begin with. You don’t seem to understand why. I can’t see you if you don’t know why I’m so angry, because you’ll just make me madder by saying shit like ‘I don’t regret it.’ I believe you would regret it if you realised where my anger stemmed from._

_Something that I have come to realise is that we don’t know each other, not really. How can you love me, if you don’t know me? How can I work out how I feel about you, if I don’t know you? I don’t know what makes you feel anger, happiness or sadness. I don’t know what you do when you’re not being the Eric I know – training and fighting and arguing. I don’t know you. I don’t know what makes you laugh or cry, or even if you cry at all._

_We don’t know basic shit about each other. I don’t even know what love feels like. Maybe I can’t stop thinking like this because you’re under my skin in some way – for better or for worse. Perhaps we’re both confusing passion for something else. I’m confused. I need time. Don’t wait for me, as you say you will, or I’ll come to you before I’m ready and then both of us will end up hurt._

_Let’s stay away from each other, let’s have some space. Don’t look for me in the dining hall or in the corridors, don’t ask how my training is going or how I’m healing up. In return I won’t look for you and I won’t ask if you’re well. Let’s take the time to think without each other’s presence clouding the issue. I don’t know how to feel about you when you’re there – not that I know how to feel when you’re not. Please, I’m asking you this: leave me be._

_There’s a rock, just under the path by the Chasm. It’s hidden from the path by the overhang and you have to climb down to it – if you go over the barrier before the path curves to go to the Pit, the rock is beneath that point. I’ll be there at midnight on the 16 th – in three day’s time. They tell me that by then, I’ll be all healed and back in fighting trim. The rock is hidden from view and the roar of the water hides words, so we can have a row in peace if that’s how it ends. _

_Please, do this for me. I ask no more than this._

_Tris._

               

 


	30. Making Amends With Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris seeks Tori's advice about her fear sims, and apologises to her friends for her short temper.

_SEPTEMBER 13 TH – 3RD DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE TWO (EVENING)_

That evening, I drag my battered body up to the tattoo shop. Bud greets me, and I have to assure him I’m not abandoning him for Tori when I ask for her. She takes me through to the back room and looks at me critically.

                “I was sorry to hear about what happened,” she says. “You look appalling.”

                “Thank you, Tori,” I say blandly. “That makes me feel terrific.”

                “No problem. What can I do for you this evening?”

                “I was hoping to talk to you. About my test result.” Her faces shutters at once, and she glances at the door. “Please, there’s nobody else I can ask.”

                “I did what I could for you when I manually entered your result as Abnegation. It is so unbelievably risky of you to come here tonight to ask me about this. What possessed you?” she hisses.

                “The fear sims,” I answer. “I only have three fears. Three. And the simulations aren’t reacting to me right, they’re over too quickly or I do things that throw me out.” She sighs in exasperation.

                “I knew they would. It was the same for my brother.”

                “You have a brother?”

                “No, not anymore.” She picks at a nail. “He was like you. During the second stage he got really good, really fast. And then one morning we found his body in the Chasm. People worked out what he was, who he was, and they were the wrong people. They said he jumped, but I knew different.”

                “Are you – someone threw him?”

                “Or made him jump.”

                “Who?”

                “I don’t know. The leadership was different then, it wasn’t Four and Eric – but Max was there, he’s older.” I conceal my relief at this and hate myself that I’m thinking only that in the light of her grief.

                “I’m so sorry, Tori,” I say, because what else can I say? What else is there for me to say?

                “Don’t be,” she says wearily. “It happened, and it’s done. Look, Tris, I can’t help you. I’m sorry.”

                “I need to know how to keep it secret!” I exclaim incautiously.

                “Keep your voice down!” she snaps. “You keep it secret by being quiet. You keep it secret by not doing crap like this. You keep it secret by playing along with the Sims. You have to resist the temptation to end them early, you have to pretend that you’re scared.”

                “No trouble there, they do bloody scare me. The Sim is the Chasm, with the crap being beaten out of me, over and over and over. I just want them to be over, so sometimes I jump into the Chasm, sometimes I try to run away but I never can, I can’t run away from it. And I never have a weapon so I can’t fight.” She stares at me.

                “We may as well tattoo it on your forehead and have done with it. The Sims never leave you with nothing, there’s always a way to either escape or stop the situation. You have got to find the way to use the Sim to fight it. There’s always a weapon or a tool or an escape route, depending on the fear. You get two weeks, Tris, you have to find a way to fight it. You have to hide who you are.”

                “Why is it so bad to be like me?”

                “Because you don’t fit. You don’t fit into a category, so you can’t be labelled or predicted. And because you can’t be labelled or predicted, you’re dangerous. You can’t be controlled. That’s why they fear you.” I nod. I’m disappointed, but I don’t know what I might have expected.

                “Thank you. I’m sorry for putting you in this position.”

                “Just don’t do it again.”

                “I won’t,” I promise, standing up and pulling my jacket back on. My hand is on the door handle before she speaks again.

                “Tris?” I turn back at once, hoping against hope she has thought of something I can do to hide this, and keep myself safe.

                “Yes?”

                “Don’t trust Max,” she says. “He’s not a good man. And if you are found out, I wouldn’t trust him not to act against you. No matter what the cost, no matter what you have to do, you must not let him suspect that you are Divergent. You have to hide it from him. Eric too, I don’t – something’s going on. I don’t know what, I don’t know why, but I don’t trust him. Something is going on in Dauntless and it’s nothing good. But Max especially – Max must never know about you.”

 

I slip out and check my watch, biting my lip. My letter to Eric is practically burning a hole in my pocket. It’s nine-thirty, and in half an hour if he keeps his word, he will be waiting for me. I could go up there too and we could have an excellent, top-quality dramatic, screaming, hollering, cursing row. The idea has its appeal. I’m wound up tighter than a coiled spring, on edge from nerves and fear. I’m tense from worry and pain, bursting with secrets and concealment.

 

It would be a terrible idea to go up there. While a row might relieve some of the tension, it might also lead to one or both of us making unwise and stupid declarations. Neither of us apparently have a filter and neither of us exactly bring out the best in each other when we’re arguing. And Tori implied heavily that she didn’t trust him, that she believed something was happening among our Faction leaders. Something bad, anyway.

 

But I have always trusted Eric. Even when he was chucking knives at me, I trusted him. I trusted him when he kissed me and I trusted him when he sat beside me in Medical and held my hands when the nurse was trying to get my eyes to open. I trust Eric, that I know for certain. I don’t know anything else about what’s going on here, but I know that I trust Eric.

 

Max is a different story though. Something about him – his eyes are so cold and expressionless. Yes, that’s it, that’s the feeling of unease. That no matter what his face is doing, his eyes are chilly in the extreme. Perhaps it would behove me to do some snooping around. If something is going on, there is always a trace of it somewhere. And what luck – I have a cast-iron reason to be wandering Dauntless more than most, given my frequent trips to Medical. I must keep eyes and ears open and try to see what I can find out.

 

Somewhere, Eric will be making his way to the path at the top of the Pit, to wait for me and hope. I put my hand into my pocket; feel the smooth edges of the note. I will not go. It would be unwise to go.

 

I slide the letter under the door of his flat at ten past ten. I know he won’t be there, and I don’t have the balls to risk pushing it through when he might be there to see it at once. I don’t know if he’ll find it – I hope it doesn’t end up catching somewhere or sliding under a chair. Not that there were any chairs near the door, as far as I remember. I get the horrible impression I’m letting myself over-think this, that I’m worried about how he will take it. I tried my best to explain. I have to hope he takes it as it was meant – as a plea for mercy.

 

I slide back into our rooms, and ask if I can talk to them all.

                “Look, I want to apologise. I know I’ve been kind of hard to be around just recently. I was rude and snappy and petty about all this – and none of it’s any of your faults so I shouldn’t keep taking my bad moods out on you guys.”

                “You’re in pain. And Eric’s doing – well, whatever he’s been doing.” I blow out a breath.

                “I should have explained from the first. Eric and I have been having some issues. Including some on my part – I’ve been pushing him away when maybe I should have just accepted his help and care, and that’s on me. I’m not blameless in all this. He’s still a complete tool but maybe he wouldn’t have gone after Peter if I’d made more of an effort to explain to him why I wanted to be the one to deal with it. There are some things that aren’t for me to tell – but Eric and I need to sit down and actually have a conversation together, when both of us are calm and rational and not charged up by emotions and anger and fear sims. I’m really sorry I pushed you guys away, and I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch. I shouldn’t have been. I should have kept you in the loop all along.”

                “You – OK, being honest here – yes, it would have been really nice if you’d just explained all this to start with,” Will says, blunt as a Candor. “But we get it, we do. And I for one accept your apology.”

                “Me too,” Al says, smiling at me.

                “And me,” Christina says, jumping up to hug me. “But we’re here for you, you know? You can talk to us. What else are friends for, if not unloading occasionally?”

                “Thank you,” I say, accepting her hug and looking at the boys. “I don’t know that I deserve friends like you,” I add, swallowing the sudden lump in my throat. After that, I beat a hasty retreat to bed. My roaming has worn me out, and I don’t need the pills tonight to sleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, don't hate me, but I'm not going to be able to update tomorrow.
> 
> We're changing internet providers and it may take up to 24 hours for the signal to kick in and whatnot. 
> 
> However, to make it up to you all, you will get four chapters on Friday :)


	31. Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris endures medical complications as a result of her attack, and suffers a panic attack when memories of her attack are called forth.

_SEPTEMBER 14 TH – 4TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE TWO (MORNING)_

The doctor is frowning, which can’t be good. It’s not the woman who has been seeing me; it’s a man I only vaguely recognise.

                “What’s wrong?” I ask.

                “This hasn’t been causing you bother, has it?” he asks, gesturing at my operation scar.

                “Not at all. I think the ribs distract from it?”

                “They’re causing you pain?”

                “Not pain,” I say, considering. “More like – it feels sharp, almost.” His face changes, and slight confusion becomes concern. “What?”

                “I want to do an x-ray,” he says. “The scar looks infected, but the infection isn’t from the wound. From what you’ve just said, I’m slightly concerned one of the ribs may have splintered, and a bone fragment has worked its way down. If that’s the case, we’ll need to operate again. Can you lie down? I’d like to examine you, if that’s OK?”

                “I’ve got training.”

                “Not this morning you haven’t,” he answers. “Depending on what we need to do, you might be able to attend this afternoon.”

                “I’ll have to let them know –“

                “The nurse can do that,” he says firmly, touching a button by the bed.

                “Fine,” I grumble. I might throw Peter into the Chasm yet. “But I can’t keep on missing training. I’ve got a rank to maintain.”

                “Medical issues don’t count against you.” A nurse comes in and smiles at me. I recognise this one – you don’t forget the woman who had to prise your eyes open after having seven shades of shit beaten out of you.

                “Hello again, Tris. How are you?”

                “Grumpy,” I answer.

                “Can you run to the fear sims, please?” the doctor asks her. “Tris isn’t going to be in training this morning and may not be in this afternoon either. Would you consent to letting us explain, by the way?”

                “Sure, whatever,” I say moodily.

                “I believe she may need an operation to retrieve an errant bone fragment. Tell whoever is in charge that if they come here at lunchtime, Tris or I can explain further.”

                “Not whoever’s in charge,” I say. “Tell Four or Max – under no circumstances tell Eric a damn thing.”

                “Of course,” the nurse says reassuringly. “Would you like me to tell one of your friends, too?”

                “Tell Four to brief them,” I say, allowing the doctor to help me lie down flat. “He can tell them.” The nurse nods, exchanges a brief glance with the doctor and slips out as quietly as she came in. “What do you need to do then?”

                “I’m going to press gently on your tummy, around the scar and your ribs, and you’re going to tell me if it hurts. If it does hurt, please describe the pain,” he says. He touches the back of his hand gently to my side. “Not too cold, are they?” he asks.

                “No, they’re fine thank you.” He starts his exam and he is very gentle. “That feels like you’re pressing a bruise,” I say, as he presses over the scar.

                “But it’s not painful?”

                “No, I wouldn’t necessarily say painful.”

                “That’s good.” But then he presses under my rib cage and for a split second, I think he’s actually stabbed me.

                “Fucking hell!”

                “OK. Sorry, I have to keep going.” I grit my teeth. From the scar up to my ribs is a path of fire. When it’s over, I’m trying to blink back tears, but my eyes are still swollen enough that I don’t succeed. “Tris, let it out if you have to,” the doctor says gently. I shake my head.

                “I’m fine,” I say. My teeth are gritted, and I can feel the sweat starting to bead on my forehead. It is very obvious that I am not fine. My chest feels like it might collapse under the iron bands that have wrapped around my heart and lungs. My hands are balled tight, and my right wrist is hot agony from the act but I cannot unclench it.

 

Perhaps I’m going mad. Maybe this is what it feels like. Maybe this is what people mean when they talk about losing it or falling apart. My face feels very hot, the rest of me very cold. I can hear my blood roaring through my veins and it sounds like the river sounded when I was trying to protect my head from blows. I feel like a great force is pressing me onto the bed, like I’m being crushed or buried alive. I can’t breathe.

                “Breathe,” a cool voice is saying, almost whispering. “In and out, Tris. Feel my hands in yours. Feel my breath on your face. Gently, come back gently. Take your time. In and out. Don’t pant. Feel each inhale fill you up, and then empty out with each exhale. Can you feel my hands in yours?” I manage a nod. I no longer feel as if the room is swinging around me. I crack my eyes open and look up to meet the doctor’s eyes. His clipboard is abandoned on the floor beside him; I’m hunched over on the bed, curled into myself. “That’s it, good girl. In – and out. In – and out.” I focus on copying him, until the action feels normal and I can breathe again, until my head is clear and the room is steady. “You OK?”

                “What was that?”           

                “You had a panic attack,” he answers, not letting go of me or moving. “It’s a perfectly normal response to sudden, unexpected trauma or stress. Would you like to sit up, sip some water?” He helps me into a sitting position, and the nurse from earlier hands me a paper cup. My hands are shaking when I take it. I manage to take a couple of sips without spilling it.

                “Will it happen again?” I ask. I feel limp, exhausted, as if I’ve completed a full day of physical training.

                “It might. You’ve gone through a fairly traumatic event, Tris; it will take some time to get over it. Do you think anything in particular set you off?”

                “The pain, I think. I was fine up until then. I think it reminded me of when I first came round – before the op, you know.”

                “OK. I’m really sorry.”

                “No. You didn’t know I’d get all stupid and weak because of –“

                “You’re not stupid and you’re not weak,” the nurse says, very firmly. “As the doctor says, what you went through was a terrible experience. These kinds of reactions afterwards are normal and to be expected.”

                “I don’t get it,” I say, rubbing my forehead in frustration. “I’ve come off worse in plenty of fights –“

                “Fighting in training, with your full consent and your full knowledge, is a very different thing to being jumped in a dark tunnel without warning or expectation. The cowardly nature of it and combined with your knowledge that in a set fight you probably could have taken them means you’re struggling to come to terms with it. If you like, we can offer counselling,” the nurse says.

                “I’ll think about it,” I say, deliberately noncommittal. I sip more water, calmer now. “What did you find?”

                “I’ll need the x-ray to be sure but I’m fairly certain that one or more of the ribs has splintered and bone fragments have detached. Are you feeling calm enough to do that now?”

                “Yes. I want to know. Get it over with.”                

                “Alright. Lydia, could you set that up for us please?” The nurse goes off, and he puts me into a wheelchair for the journey, even though I protest this wildly. “I’m sorry Tris, but if it turns out there are bone splinters there, it will be wise to minimise any exertion to the bare minimum.”

                “I’ve been walking around for three days. I’ve been in training, doing fear sims and wandering Dauntless. I walked here, for God’s sake.”

                “I know and I know it seems pointless. But if one of the fragments were to pierce something between here and x-ray, I’d get it in the neck on all sides.” I give it up, too tired to argue and too drained by the panic attack to fight the issue. He wheels me into x-ray, which is somewhere new to me conscious. They must have brought me here after the attack but I don’t remember a thing about it. I have to lie into various different positions, and idly I think that if the bone fragments they’re worried about are going to pierce something, they’ll do it when I’m twisting myself into a pretzel. And still they put me in the chair to go back to the ward. While I’m twiddling my thumbs on the bed they told me to stay on, Four comes in. I grimace as wildly at him as I can – given that my lip is still sore and my nose and eyes are still dodgy – and he grins, sauntering over to sit down beside me and survey me critically.

                “Well, you don’t look as bad as I was expecting. What’s going on?”

                “Is it lunchtime already?” I ask, instead of answering him.

                “Not quite, it’s just past twelve. I didn’t really have time to do another sim before lunch though, so I left Max to it and came down here. So, what is it?”

                “Didn’t the nurse tell you?”

                “Something about an op to remove a bone fragment.”

                “They think there’s a chance the ribs have splintered and one or more fragments are now roaming about at will like rogue Factionless. I’ve just had x-rays but I still don’t know what’s going on.”

                “I see. You’re rapidly become a challenge.”

                “I told them not to keep me off training,” I snarl, in no mood for jokes.

                “OK. I told Al, by the way – he’s the only one I’ve had on my list this morning, although I’ll be seeing Christina after lunch. I told him to tell the others.”

                “Thanks,” I say. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so vile.”

                “I know you don’t,” he says calmly. “And I won’t hold it against you.” The doctor comes in, mercifully, and I don’t have to maintain the apology.

                “Ah, Tris and Four. I have your x-ray results, Tris.”

                “Oh, I can go,” Four says, standing up.

                “No,” I say, waving him back down. “It’ll save a lot of time if you just listen to the doctor too.”

                “OK,” the doctor says, going over to the wall and pressing a button, lighting up a screen. He puts some films on it and my ribcage lights up in sharp white relief against a black background. “So this is your ribcage. Can you see the breaks in the lower three on this side?” he asks, pointing.

                “The darker lines?” I ask. He nods. “Yeah, I see them.”

                “And can you see these white flecks, here?” he continues, pointing at a cluster just under my ribs.

                “Are those the bone fragments?” Four asks, looking vaguely ill.

                “They are. It looks like over-exertion has caused the breaks to splinter along the lines of stress and these have collected. They’re barely an inch from your right lung. We need to operate now, because if we leave them there is every chance they could puncture it and then we’ll be in serious bother.”

                “How will this impact on training?” I ask, and then hold up a defensive hand as Four turns to me with anger growing on his face. “Whoa, whoa. I’m not going to not have this operation, I’m not a moron. I just want to know what I’ll have to do going forward to stop it happening again.”

                “You’ll be kept here for today and overnight. Ideally we would keep you tomorrow too, give you time to recover properly, then look to discharge you tomorrow evening. I’d be happy for you to go back to training on the sixteenth, assuming your recovery goes well and no further complications present themselves. However, it would be under certain conditions and I would have to insist you were closely monitored and the simulation ended if you start thrashing around too much. You’d come in here three times a day for examination – once in the morning, once immediately after your fear sim, and once in the evening. Got that?”

                “Got it,” I say, and for once there won’t be an argument from me. Not about this anyway. I’m not so stupid as to mess about with bone fragments when they’re currently trying to get to know my lungs intimately.

                “We can prep you straight away,” the doctor says gently. “Do you want to see anyone first?” I want to see Eric. It’s bizarre that in this moment, he is the thought I have.

                “No,” I say. “Can you tell the others?” I ask of Four, as the doctor slips out.

                “Of course. I can send Christina up, I can find out from the doctor when you can have visitors.”

                “Only if she’s up for it,” I say cautiously. “She’s not to feel pressured.”

                “Of course not. And – I’m going to ask, so please don’t take a swing at me. Do you want me to brief Eric about this?”

                “Has he noticed my absence?”

                “He will this afternoon. You were on Max’s list for after lunch and Eric is going to swing by to help me.” I sigh.

                “You might as well,” I say. “He’s not to come. I don’t want to see him.”

                “Very well. I’ll explain that you required a further operation but won’t go into details.”

                “I’m sorry to put you in this position. I – I don’t want you to feel obliged to carry my messages.”

                “If I didn’t want to do it, I wouldn’t have offered,” he says gently. “I’ll go and speak to the doctor but then I’ll get going – unless you want me to stay until you go in.”

                “No, no,” I say. “You go and get lunch. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”


	32. Morphine-Induced Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al visits Tris after her operation, and leaves her with plenty to ponder on when he reports Eric’s reaction to Four’s news.

_SEPTEMBER 14 TH – 4TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE TWO (AFTERNOON)_

I come round feeling groggy but a lot better than last time. There’s no drip and only a mild ache to betray the surgery. The nurse is taking my pulse and smiles at me when I peer up at her.

                “Does my face feel a lot better?” I ask, apropos of nothing. I bring my free hand up to it and poke gingerly at it. The swelling seems dramatically better.

                “We took the liberty of accelerating that for you. As the damage that remained was solely cosmetic, we decided we could reduce the swellings and bruising for you as best as we could. You’re still a bit yellow around the eyes and temple but otherwise you’re more or less back to normal. I bet you feel better in the breathing department.”

                “So much. Thanks. How did it go?”

                “Very well. We removed ten fragments and double checked – we definitely got them all. Your ribs are going to be strapped up for a while so you’ll need to turn and so on very gently for a few days until we remove it all. How are you feeling?”

                “Tired,” I say, my eyelids already closing.

                “Go to sleep sweetheart,” she murmurs, releasing my wrist and pulling the blanket over me. It’s such a gentle, caring touch that I have to wonder if she was always Dauntless, before I fall back into sleep.

 

I wake again to the now-familiar wrapped-in-wool feeling of morphine. I open my eyes and find Al staring down at me with a smile hovering on his lips.

                “Hello, sleeping beauty,” he says cheerfully, bending down to press a kiss onto my newly-healed temple. “How are you feeling?”

                “Pretty good. Pretty high. Morphine’s great.” He laughs and sits down in the chair he pulls up to my bedside. “What time is it?”

                “Just gone five. I thought I’d pop in before dinner and run an eye over you so I could report back to the others that you aren’t dead. I’m glad you woke up though, Christina will be less tense if she knows I’ve spoken to you too.”

                “Glad I could oblige.”

                “I’m going to have to go; I’ve got to get to dinner. Shall I tell the nurse you’re awake?”

                “Please. Will you come back after dinner?”

                “If the nurse says it’s OK.”

 

The nurse follows him in and smiles at me as he ducks out. She helps me to sit up, arranges a tray table over my legs and brings in a tray of dinner. I’m not massively hungry, but manage to eat most of it before having to give it up. I push the plate away slightly, and she notices the movement from the other side of the room. She doesn’t ask anything or press me to keep on eating, just removes the plate and replaces it with a double chocolate muffin. I glance up and she winks at me.

                “Post-operative patients get special treats if they were brave,” she says and I grin at her. I unwrap the muffin and break it into my usual small bites, although I’m careful to keep the crumbs this creates on the tray table. I can sweep them into the paper when I’m done with it.

 

Al comes back as I’m finishing this treat and sits down beside me at once.

                “I’ve got gossip for you,” he announces. “First, please understand that this doesn’t come from me – Christina ordered me to impart this news, so please don’t shoot the messenger.”

                “Why didn’t she just come and tell me?” I query. I pass him the penultimate bite of chocolate muffin and eat the last myself, carefully gathering the crumbs.

                “She had a bad time on the sims today,” he says. “She wanted to but Will put his foot down and said she wasn’t going anywhere unless it was bed.” I nod.

                “That’s fair. Well, what was it then?”

                “The fear sim? Oh, the gossip. Well, Four came back after lunch and called the three of us over, told us you needed another operation but that we weren’t to worry too much. He explained the bone fragments stuff. He said you said that we weren’t to get all parental – although we assumed he was taking license there – and that we could come and see you this afternoon if we wanted. Christina started asking him about three hundred questions – you know what she’s like – and he answered what he could before telling her he didn’t know more than he’d already said and he had to get on with training. Then Eric rocked up and Four beckoned him over. Christina didn’t notice and kept pestering so Four cut her off and said she could either go and sit down or do press ups until it was her turn on the sims. She stamped off and Will followed. Four told me to stick around for a minute, so I stepped aside to let him speak to Eric.” I have a horrible feeling I know where this is going. “Four told him that he would need to adjust your schedule, because you were back in Medical.” Al pauses and looks at me.

                “Go on,” I say, as casually as I can manage. “I suppose he hit the roof and started hollering about not making allowances for weaklings.”

                “No. He went paper-white, and got hold of Four by the arm – I thought he was going collapse. Four looked like he had the same idea because he started trying to push Eric into a chair, but Eric wouldn’t go – he got hold of Four’s collar and asked him what was wrong. Four told him to get a grip and said that you needed another operation but that you were going to be OK.” He pauses again, and the look I get this time is softly curious. “There is something going on, isn’t there?” he asks.

                “No,” I say. “Not on my end, anyway. And if there was, you would’ve been the first to know about it.”

                “You’ve got to admit – he does some pretty strange things where you’re concerned.” I roll my eyes, very much enjoying having the ability to do so back again.

                “How do we know this is strange?” I retort, voicing my own doubts. “We don’t know him, after all.”

                “The man’s a lunatic, what more do you need to know?” Al says in return and we laugh – which swiftly becomes a gasp for me. “You OK?”

                “I forgot about my ribs.”

                “You idiot. Four said you’d be here all tomorrow too,” he continues, thankfully dropping the entire subject of Eric. “You want me to bring you a book or some cards or anything?”

                “If you could I’d love you forever. I’ll die of boredom otherwise and then where would you all be?”

                “Enjoying the peace and quiet,” he answers cheekily.

                “I’d punch you for that if I wasn’t supposed to avoid unnecessary exertion.”

                “I’ll make a note of that.” The nurse comes in then.

                “Sorry, but I’m going to have to send you away, I’m afraid,” she says to Al. “Visiting hours finish at seven and it’s quarter past now. You can come back tomorrow – either between eight and nine in the morning, twelve and two in the afternoon or five and seven in the evening. No more than two visitors at any one time.” Al nods and bends over me to kiss my cheek.

                “Right then, sleep well. I imagine Christina will pop by tomorrow before training. Whoever comes, they’ll bring some kind of activity.” He slips away and the nurse smiles.

                “Do you need or want anything?” she asks.

                “I need the loo. Am I good to just get up and go?”

                “I’ll help you out of bed but otherwise you should be fine.” She helps me stand, and I’m grateful for it – I’m rather stiff and achy after lying down all day and moving even carefully pulls the stitches in a way that is rather irritating. I hope this won’t last long. I said I’d meet Eric on the rock beneath the Chasm path, and I’ll need to climb down it. I won’t be able to do that if I’m in pain or having to be aware of stitches. I use the loo without difficulty and the nurse has waited to help me back into bed.

                “How’s your pain?” she queries as she pulls the blankets back over me.

                “Fine. I’m not in any really.”

                “That’s excellent. I’ll say this for you, you come round from things quickly.”

                “You accelerated the majority of my healing,” I point out.

                “True, but even so you’re doing well. Now, are you warm enough or too cold?”

                “If anything I’m a bit too warm. Is there a fan or something?”    

                “I’ll switch out your blankets for a sheet,” she says, going to a cupboard to do just that. She rearranges my bed, and replaces the blankets, but she folds them down over the foot of the bed rather than tucking me back in.  “I’ll leave them there as you might well get cooler during the night. If you find you can’t reach to pull them up without it hurting, the call button is here, next to your bed. I’m going to take your temperature, pulse and blood pressure now.” She completes the checks quickly and efficiently and I lean back into the pillows. “I’m going to leave you now, but there’s a nurse here all night so if you need anything just buzz. You have water here. Do you want a book? I think there’s one or two lying around.”

                “No, I’m pretty tired. I’ll just sleep, I think.”

                “Alright. Goodnight then. If you do wake in any pain, just buzz as I said, and the nurse will come and top your morphine up.” She goes, and I lie in the dark. From far away, the sounds of people shouting in the Pit reach my ears, and footsteps from the surrounding corridors filter through.

 

I wake quite suddenly at three in the morning, and sit up at once. I reach for my light switch and stare around my room. It’s quite empty. I sigh, slumping back onto my pillows. It must have been a dream but it felt so real. I dreamt that Eric slipped inside, shrouded in silence and pale as a ghost, his tattoos vividly black against his pallor. He leant over me, brushing my hair back from my forehead as he has done so many times before. I dreamt that he stroked light fingers over the remnants of my bruises and sighed so gently before kissing my forehead. I dreamt that he whispered that he loved me, that he was sorry, that he had been so worried and had to see me. But the room is empty, the door still tightly closed and no signs that anyone was here. Perhaps the nurse looked in on me, perhaps the opening and the closing of the door reached me in my sleep and my drug-addled brain constructed the dream around these noises. As I decide that this must be the case, I become aware of the pain in my side and sigh. I reach for my buzzer and a fairly young nurse appears at once. He smiles at me as he comes in.

                “I’m sorry to be a bother,” I say. “I woke up – weird dream – and couldn’t get back to sleep. The nurse last night said I could ring if I needed some pain relief?”

                “Of course,” he says, looking rather surprised. “You don’t need to ask you know, just ring and say you’re hurting.” He slips out and comes back with a wrapped needle and vial of morphine in hand. He injects me so smoothly I barely feel a thing, and then sticks a little plaster over the spot of blood welling on the inside of my elbow. “Do you need anything else?”

                “Oh no. Not at all. Thank you.” He smiles again, and urges me to lie back down. He tucks me in and switches off my light for me, slipping out on silent feet. Even with the pain relief, I don’t get back to sleep for some time. I ponder on the dream for some time now there isn’t the pain to distract me. My subconscious is evidently less upset with Eric than my conscious mind is, because despite the fact that the dream featured an Eric who once again went against my clearly expressed wishes, I wasn’t at all upset. In fact, in the dream at any rate, I wanted him to stay with me. I wanted him to wrap me in his arms and hold me while I slept. I wanted to reach out, trace the lines of his tattoos and tell him that I wasn’t mad at him, tell him that I was happy that he had come.

 

I’m almost asleep again when I realise that I didn’t want it to be a dream.


	33. Secrets and Admiration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris is once more discharged from Medical and settles back into Faction life by tormenting Christina over her attraction to Will

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *SMUT ALERT* - For those readers who may prefer to skip passages containing sexually explicit material, you can read around it - just skip over the italics!

_SEPTEMBER 15 TH – 5TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE TWO (MORNING)_

 

I wake at half past seven, exhausted by my broken night and wearied by the confusion of the dream. The nurse brings my breakfast at nine and smiles at me.

                “Just woken up?”

                “Oh no,” I say. “I woke up a while ago.”

                “You should have rung,” she says. “Someone would have come to see to you.”

                “I didn’t need anything.” She puts the tray down and pulls the table over my knees before she helps me into a sitting position.

                “Alright then. Well, here’s breakfast – nothing fancy, just eggs and toast and sausages. Oh, and someone dropped something off for you at the desk,” she adds, slipping out to return with a canvas bag. “He was sorry he couldn’t stay,” she continues. “But he was a bit odd about it really, just said you wouldn’t want to see him so he didn’t want to stay –“

                “Who was it?” I interrupt sharply, staring at her.

                “Eric,” she says, pulling my sheets straight. “He said he had to get to training so he didn’t stay. He didn’t look too well, it must be said – like he’d been up all night.” She doesn’t give me a chance to answer or start hollering, just goes back out and leaves me to breakfast. I eat so slowly that most of it is stone cold by the time I’m halfway through it. Perhaps I didn’t dream it – perhaps he really did come and see me. Perhaps he did brush my hair from my forehead and kiss me gently and whisper to me that he loved me. But – are those things really Eric? Certainly we have been tender before, but this is too much. His gentleness is always tempered by smart remarks or outbursts of anger. He’s never been purely tender with me. And from the nurse’s remarks, he knew this morning that I would refuse to see him if he asked and so didn’t even ask.

 

I push the breakfast plate away and take up the bag. There are two books inside, both classics we read at school in our literature classes – _Lord of the Flies_ and _The Adventures of Tom Sawyer_. There’s also a pack of cards and a booklet of games that a single person can play, and a note from Christina.

 

_We were all running late this morning, so me and Will are coming by at lunch. Hope these stave off the boredom. C._

I smile and put the note back in the back, along with _Lord of the Flies_ and the cards. I open _Adventures_ and settle down to read, determined not to keep on thinking about Eric. But then – I’m meeting him tomorrow, and I said I’d think.

 

I realise about three chapters in that I haven’t read the book at all. Barely any of it has sunk in; instead I’ve just sat and stared at the pages, occasionally turning them. All I’ve thought about is Eric. I realise good and well that what I wrote still holds good – I don’t know him. But I want to know him. I want to get to know him, and I want to feel him wrap his arms around me and kiss me when he sees me. I want things from Eric I barely understand. I want to trace his tattoos and find out where they all start. I want to feel his fingers trace the flames of my own tattoo, feel them stray onto the ravens on my shoulder. I want to feel his hands on mine, and argue with him about stuff before kissing him to stop him being mad.

 

I’m sunk. By the time Christina and Will come in for lunch, I’m so out of things I have to blame the morphine for how vacant I am, even though I haven’t had any since the nurse gave me some in the early hours. Whether they realise or not, they’re tactful, and just chat to me about general things like what lunch was and how tired they are. I pull myself together enough to thank them for the books, but don’t ask why it was Eric who dropped them by. They don’t mention it either, and in the end they have to run to get back to training on time.

 

After lunch I nap for a while, and then the nurse wakes me up. The doctor shows me how to wrap my own ribs, reminds me about avoiding unnecessary exertion and discharges me. I dress, repack the books and go back to our rooms, where I station myself on the sofa with _How to Masturbate._

_CHAPTER FOUR: ALL THINGS EROGENOUS_

_We’ve briefly touched on erogenous zones before. There is dispute about how many a woman might have, but the most common are as follows:_

_The clitoris – as discussed, the clitoris is one of the most sensitive points on a woman’s body. Stimulation of this for a shorter or longer period of time is very likely to result in orgasm. However, the high level of nerve endings can mean it is too sensitive to stimulate directly. Using a vibrator or hands (and your partner’s tongue!) are all ways to stimulate the clitoris. Applying too much pressure, however, can result in discomfort or pain. A light hand is normally considered best for the clitoris, as it is as delicate as it is sensitive._

_Nipples – some women can orgasm from stimulation of the nipples alone, although this may take some time and not all women can do so. Pressure or vibrations are the best way to go on this one. You can pinch or twist your nipples gently, or pull them slightly. Some women like to use the same small circles they use to stimulate their clitoris on the nipples. As with all things, the best way is to try things out and experiment with various combinations of stimuli._

_The cervix – now, this is a tricky one! Some women find it extremely pleasurable to have their cervix stimulated, although many find it uncomfortable. As it’s located at the neck of the womb and is the deepest point in the vagina itself; it’s not normally reachable with fingers alone. The cervix really responds best to pressure applied repeatedly and the easiest way to do this is to use something to thrust. As a beginner, it’s wise to use a slim, reasonably short and simple dildo to do this with, and build up to the all-singing, all-dancing ones. Be gentle at first, and don’t try cervical stimulation as a warm-up act, at least not until you’ve tried it out a few times. We’d suggest you introduce cervical stimulation as a side-dish to the main course._

_The neck is up next, and we find this one to be a bit hit and miss – although several people have assured us it’s a very pleasurable spot. This one, we find, is generally best left to a partner, as touches and kisses are the most popular ways to stimulate the neck and add to the sensation. The neck definitely an add-on to pleasure rather than the cause of the pleasure, although some women are able to become aroused from touching their neck._

_There are other erogenous zones, most notably the mouth and lips. As you really do require a partner to kiss you, it’s pretty difficult stimulating this one. This is the primary reason so many people get all hot and bothered during a kiss, because it’s such an intimate act and naturally awakens fantasies of other possible intimate acts. However, this is not a book about how your partner can get you going, or about how you can get your partner going, this is a book about you getting you going. With that in mind, we’ll move on._

_CHAPTER FIVE: THE JOYS OF TOYS_

_We’ve touched very briefly on toys in previous chapters, but this chapter is solely about them. They come in all colours, shapes, sizes, abilities, performance level – there is literally something out there for everyone, even if you decide toys aren’t for you and choose not to use any at all!_

_To the uninitiated, some toys can appear intimidating to say the least of it. For those just starting out there’s really no need to do anything but start small. Bullet vibes are great, as they’re not huge or overly-intense. We find that starting on the more intense toys can put some people off completely and personally, we think that’s a shame. Whether you only occasionally use a toy, use them regularly or use them every time you masturbate, finding the right one for you is a learning curve. As we mentioned, you might not want to use them at all. This is absolutely fine, and if you prefer things that way, we’d say skip this chapter. If, however, you do like toys, then we hope this chapter can help you learn the subtleties (or not, given some of the available toys on the market) and nuances of choosing and using sex toys._

_As a rule, toys fit into three categories: external use, internal use and partner toys. External use toys can include such things as vibrators, suction cups, clamps and chastity devices. Internal use toys can include dildos, butt plugs, anal beads and Ben-Wa/Love Balls. Partner toys are toys designed specifically to be used when having sexual encounters with other people – handcuffs, restraints, dual-action cock rings, blindfolds, gags and items of furniture known colloquially as sex furniture. We’re not going to go into great detail about these as that’s not the point of this book – they’re mentioned as a demonstration of the variety available._

_Despite most toys typically fitting into one category, many can and do cross over into the others. There’s nothing you use alone, for example, that couldn’t be used with a partner. Vibrators can be used internally or externally despite normally being sold for external use. Some dildos and butt plugs vibrate and could conceivably therefore be used externally. We’d exercise caution though, as the vibrations of internal toys can sometimes be too intense to use externally._

_Sex toys are a safe and fun way to enhance your masturbatory experiences. They’re safe because they’re literally designed to be used for sexual pleasure, so they’re made with pleasure in mind._

I can hear voices from outside and the sound of someone fumbling with keys, so I get up quickly, heading for the bedroom. I can sit on my bed and surprise the first person through the door. I just about make it, tucking the book away and sitting up to await the first one in.

                “I’m having the first shower, I don’t even care what you guys say,” Al is saying. “I’ll go and see Tris after dinner and I don’t want to smell like sweat and fear.”

                “Fear does not have a smell, dumbass.”

                “Whatever, I’m still – oh, hey Tris.” Huh, didn’t even jump. I must be losing my touch.

                “Tris!” Christina says, throwing Al to one side. “They let you out – or did you escape?” she asks suspiciously, plonking down on my bed and staring at me.

                “So suspicious,” I say.

                “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time you’d ignored medical advice.”

                “It’s fine, they let me out. I have to go three times a day for check-ups – once before training, once immediately after I finish my fear sim and once after dinner.”

                “Good. How are you feeling?”

                “Fine, actually. Better than I felt after they took my spleen out anyway. Feel a bit like I weigh an extra stone with all the nonsense they’ve wrapped me up in but I can handle that. Have I missed anything exciting?”

                “Not a thing,” Al says, yanking his shirt off and dumping it into the laundry basket. I appreciate the view from under lowered eyelashes as he moves about the bed to gather his towels and wash bag. Got to admire that kind of workmanship after all, especially when it’s so beautifully displayed. “Apart from you being in the hospital, today has been astonishingly dull.”

                “It’s been nice, actually, to have a fairly peaceful day,” Will announces, barging in with his shirt half-off and his voice muffled as he struggles out of it. “This Faction lives off drama, I swear. Al, either you get in that shower, or I will.” Al goes, and we hear the water start running. Will continues to wander around shirtless, and Christina is almost salivating. He vanishes back into the living room to bang about in there, and I poke her with my foot.

                “You’ve got some drool there,” I say, gesturing at her chin. She blushes and ducks her head. “Here, what’s going on?” I demand, sitting up straight and staring at her. “You’re up to something!”

                “I am not!” she insists, blushing even more.

                “Yes you bloody are. You’ve got a thing for Will!” I say triumphantly.

                “Shh!” she says frantically, looking towards the door.

                “Oh my God, you haven’t told him.”

                “I don’t care how hurt you are, Tris, I’ll punch you in the face.”

                “This is exceptional,” I say, with relish in every note. “Are you going to tell him?”

                “Must we talk about this?”

                “Yes we must. You make me tell you every sordid detail about _my_ life, and now it’s my turn to torture you. Spill, or I’ll never give you a moment’s peace until you do,” I order, leaning back onto my pillows. She sighs.

                “Oh, fine,” she grumbles. “Shift over.” I do so, and she lies down beside me, joining me in staring at the ceiling. “Yes, I’ve got a thing for him. Have you seen him? He’s gorgeous. And he’s funny, he’s brave, he’s sweet.”

                “So why haven’t you told him, or propositioned him or whatever it is people do?”

                “I – am nervous.”

                “Please,” I snort. “You’re gorgeous, you’re funny, you’re a lovely person – what’s not to like? He’d say yes if you asked him anyway.”

                “How do you know?” she demands.

                “Because I have eyes in my head,” I retort. “And while admittedly I have only recently learnt about flirting and so on, I can tell that what you two are doing is flirting. And if even _I_ have noticed, maybe you ought to listen.”

                “What if he says no?”

                “What if he says yes?” I counter. “You won’t know unless you ask.”

                “I’m scared.”

                “I’ll ask him if you like,” I offer.

                “No!”

                “Well then, go and get on with it,” I say impatiently. “I nearly died twice this week. Life’s too short not to go after what you want. Go get him.” She thinks about this – I can practically see the wheels turning.

                “Alright,” she says, springing up suddenly. “I damn well will.”

 

I have to stop myself from thinking that the advice I just gave her might be very sensible advice applied to my own situation. At least it would be, if I’d ever been any good at taking advice.

 

 


	34. Explaining Actions and Justifying Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric and Tris finally pull their respective fingers out of their respective arses and have a PROPER conversation for once...

_SEPTEMBER 16 TH – 6TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE TWO (NIGHT)_

 

I’m at the rock by quarter to midnight. I lean back against the wall of the Chasm, safe in the knowledge that I can’t be seen by anyone along the path, unless they hang over the barrier and crack their neck to look under the path itself. I wanted to get here early in case I couldn’t actually manage the climb, but found it so easy in the end I’m now sat here with fifteen minutes to spare until I face him. This is dangerous – in the silences, I think at lightning speed, and none of these thoughts tend to make any sense.

 

Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how I look at it, I am not left alone for long. Some small stones clatter off the path and the barrier clangs as someone climbs over it. He makes a bit of a meal about clambering down, and brushes himself off before turning. He starts a little when he sees me already there, but recovers quickly. He glances up towards the path, and then comes towards me slowly as if he expects me to bolt if he comes at me too quickly.

                “Eric,” I say. “You came,” I add, rather lamely.

                “Of course I did. Did you think for a second I wouldn’t?”

                “Aren’t you – will you sit down with me?” I ask. He considers it, but as the path’s overhang is forcing him to stoop, he doesn’t really have much choice. He sits down beside me, his back to the rock wall just as mine is. He stretches his legs out in front of him and deliberately leaves space between us. Both of us are silent, and I rack my brains to think of how to begin. Eventually, he breaks the silence between us.

                “I was afraid you wouldn’t come. That I’d get down here to find another letter.”

                “No. The only reason I wouldn’t be on this rock is if I couldn’t have managed the climb. If that had been the case, I would have waited for you on the path.” His face twists and I immediately regret mentioning my injuries. “I’m OK, you know? This wasn’t as bad as the spleen.” The silence returns, and I pull his letter out of my jacket pocket. “You said you wanted to speak to me,” I prompt. “This is your chance.”

                “I have nothing to say to you,” he says in a voice so low I have to strain to hear him over the rush and crash of the river. “Or no, I mean there’s nothing I _can_ say. I thought about it, I spoke to Four about it – I think I understand now why you were so upset about the whole Peter thing.”

                “Well, then why don’t you tell me why you think I was so pissed off?” He takes a deep breath.

                “Because you wanted to kick his ass. And I took that away from you.”

                “No,” I say, frustration colouring my tones. “That isn’t it, or at least not completely. Look, I was – am – mad at you because you made me look weak. You made me look defenceless, as if I needed someone stronger to fight my battles for me. Peter came after me because I ranked first, and by doing what you did, people have cause to wonder _how_ I got that ranking. If I couldn’t handle Peter after he kicked the hell out of me, how did I manage to rank so high? You made it look as if I needed help.” He goes pale.

                “Oh.”

                “There we go. Finally.”

                “That was never my intention –“

                “I know,” I interrupt, pulling my knees up and doodling idly with a finger over my trousers. “But that’s what happened, and it needn’t have if you’d just respected my wishes and let me deal with it in my own way and in my own time. You’ve got a hair-trigger temper and God knows there’s a part of me that finds that attractive, but it lets you down so badly because you don’t think before you go blasting in and fucking around with stuff. As it is, all this could have been avoided if you’d just detached yourself from the situation.”

                “I can’t. Not when it’s you.”

                “Why?” I ask, although I know the answer.

                “You know why,” he says, facing me full on now. “I love you.”

                “You don’t know me.”

                “So you said in your letter. But I do know you. I know you adore chocolate, and that you sometimes go to breakfast super early just to get a chocolate muffin. I know that you can be deadly funny without ever cracking a smile yourself, so it takes people a minute to realise you’ve said something cutting. I know that you don’t really like wearing black all the time, and that your phoenix is in colour partly because of that. I know you got up early every single morning to train. I know you love to watch the sunrise. I know that you know this city like the back of your hand, because you spent so much time walking it with your parents as a child. I know that you have a wicked sense of humour. I know that Christina sometimes baffles you because she’s so feminine and that’s a foreign concept to you, but despite that you love her anyway. I know you got your ears pierced only after Four brought you earrings as your birthday present. I know that as a child, you would run after the Dauntless and look at them admiringly. I know that you have your own ideas about honour – that every fight that is unequal isn’t a fair one, that a lie is never a good thing, that people should be good to other people unless they’ve made the first wrong move. I know that you value honesty, openness and kindness in your friends and that you believe that nobody is irredeemable. I know that you are brave, and strong, and determined to do your best at everything you do. I know that you’re more naive than you care to admit and I know that you are cunning. I know that the happiness of your friends makes you happy, and that you always wait to eat until everyone else is eating – a hangover from your Abnegation days. And I know that the tattoo on your shoulder is for the family you left behind and that whilst you miss them desperately, you know you made the right decision.”

 

I am stunned into silence, staring at him, half-appalled by how much he knows.

                “And I know more, too,” he continues. “I know that you aren’t afraid of anything except fear itself. I know that you have a temper, and an awful habit of chewing your nails. I know you’re quick to anger and I know you’re sometimes irritated by tiny things. You snap at people when you’re upset. Sometimes you just want to be alone, and life here sometimes frustrates you because it’s hard to avoid socialising.  And I know that you’re an open book, and you don’t hide your feelings whether they’re good or bad.”

                “OK,” I mutter, still absolutely gobsmacked by all this. “I guess you do know me.”

                “I do. And I know that I love you, right down to the stubborn, funny, antagonistic, warm-hearted core of you.”

                “Then we’re not on an even footing,” I protest. “I don’t know you – and I’m still pissed off.”

                “That’s why people go on dates, Tris,” he points out. “They hang out together and get to know each other. Plus then you get the added bonus of kissing each other.” He takes a deep breath. “About the Peter thing – tell me what you want me to do to make it up to you. Tell me what you want from me and I’ll do it.”

                “That’s a damn stupid thing to promise anyone,” I point out. “What if what I wanted was for you apologise to Peter?” He goes a bit pale, but nods.

                “If you want it, I’ll do it.”

                “You’re insane,” I mutter, picking at a loose thread in my sleeve. “I might make you do it yet.” I pause. “OK then, I know what it is I want from you.”

                “Anything,” he repeats.

                “I want you to prove to me that you know that I’m not some fragile flower who needs sheltering. No, let me finish. I want you to tell me what you wouldn’t tell me in the cupboard at my birthday – about what you wanted to do to me. I want you to tell me what you claimed would scare me to know.”

                “That’s all?”

                “That’s all. You can’t undo what you’ve done, and you need to understand that. But you can show me that you think I’m capable of matching up to you.”

                “And what will we do, once I’ve told you?” he asks, quietly.

                “Date, I guess.” His head comes up so fast he might have cricked his neck, and his whole face lights up.

                “You mean that?”

                “When have you ever known me to say something I don’t mean? I like you. I like the way your face lights up when you smile at me. I like the way you can be so funny but so deadpan at the same time. I like how you can laugh and joke with me but argue with me too. I like the way you get me so riled up but can defuse it just by touching me. I like the way you frown when you’re concentrating. I like the way you fold your arms and hold both elbows when you watched us train. And God knows anything that means I get to keep kissing you is a good thing in my book because I’ve never enjoyed anything like I enjoy kissing you.”

                “Is it better than chocolate?” he asks, and I giggle. The tension slides away a little and he holds out a hand. I take it, and enjoy sitting with him, listening to the rumble of the river and feeling the spray touch us occasionally.

                “I can’t really remember,” I tease. “You’ve spent too long pissing me off, so I’ve forgotten.”

                “Which side are you bashed up on – just the right?”

                “Yeah,” I answer. He lets go of my hand, and slides closer to me, sliding his arm around my shoulders and turning my face up to his with his other hand.

                “Want to remind ourselves?”

                “Yes,” I answer, and his mouth comes down on mine.

 

This is not like our other kisses – they aren’t clouded by anger or irritation, or lost in the bigger battle of wills we fight. This kiss is soft, his lips gentle on mine, his thumb stroking over my jaw. I turn slightly to slide my hand over his neck, feeling the close-cropped hair stroke soft against my palm and fingers. I am the one who deepens the kiss and he lets me dictate the pace. However, it is he who stops it, and pulls back from me.

                “I’ll tell you. Come back to my flat. I want to know for certain we’re alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope it was worth the wait my dears!
> 
> Four chapters as promised and I hope they're worth it :) Daily updates should now resume!


	35. Baby Steps And Secret Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris and Eric finally open up to each other, and Tris finally sees Eric keep his word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is LATE today, for which I apologise! Saturday is shopping day in the Caenea household so my mornings are busy. See the notes at the end of Chapter 36 for a very exciting announcement!
> 
> While this chapter does not contain explicit sex, Eric does talk briefly about sex.

_SEPTEMBER 16 TH – 6TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE TWO (NIGHT)_

 

We go back to his flat, Dauntless so silent around us that our footsteps sound like gunfire. Right up until we’re in his flat, I’m convinced someone will see us, see the way he’s holding me tightly to his side and how my arm is tight around his waist. There’s no way we’d explain that, and just for now I don’t want to tell everyone about it. I want us to keep whatever this is as quiet as we can. I like the idea of holding Eric as my little secret. He sits down on his sofa, not his chair, and holds his arms out to me. I gesture at my ribs.

                “Wrong side,” I explain. He rearranges himself to the other end of the sofa and I crawl into his arms. He places his hands so carefully, so gently, that I can’t help giving a small giggle at it.

                “What’s funny?” he asks.

                “You. You’re so – so gentle with me.”

                “And you think I can’t be gentle because I’m so scary and intimidating?”

                “Pfft. You’re not scary.”

                “You might change your mind about that once we’ve talked.”

                “If I don’t think you’re scary after you threw knives at me, I’m very unlikely to think you’re scary after you tell me about what gets you off,” I point out.

                “I feel pretty bad about that,” he answers. “I actually didn’t mean to hit you. I knew as soon as I let go of that blade the throw was off. I was praying you’d move. But in a way, I think that day was the day I started falling for you. I’d never met a person like you – not only brave enough to call me out on stuff, but brave enough to take a knife through the ear and not even blink. If we could bottle your courage nobody would ever leave Dauntless again.”

                “Four told me there was a difference between bravery and base stupidity after that,” I admit. “I think pure rage was fuelling me.”

                “Me too. You get under my skin – in a good way. I’ve barely thought of anything but you.”

                “Likewise, so at least we’re equally fucked,” I answer, and he laughs.

 

We lie in silence for some time, and I don’t push to advance the conversation. I’m just enjoying this moment, here alone with him where neither of us needs to put up a front or feign disinterest. He’s playing with my hair again, messing with my ponytail and winding strands about his fingers.

                “So, do you want to know what I was thinking?” he asks me.

                “Yes.” My answer is definite and it triggers the kind of sigh that clearly says he was hoping to be able to avoid it. But he obviously collects his wits and breathes in.

                “I’m going to ask that you don’t interrupt me, OK? Unless you want me to stop talking altogether.”

                “Right, no worries. I can agree to that.” I tuck myself into his side a little more and start tracing an idle pattern on his shirt-front with my fingers. He doesn’t stop me, he just starts talking.

                “It probably won’t surprise you to know that I prefer to be in control of things around me. I don’t like letting things happen, I prefer to make them happen. You probably don’t know, however, that I was born Erudite, and transferred to Dauntless.” That does surprise me, actually. If I were guessing, I would have said that he was born and bred in this Faction. “My test result was Dauntless and it wasn’t a surprise to me. My parents died during a flu outbreak when I was thirteen, so I had no ties left to my old Faction and so I had no qualms accepting the test result and taking the leap – literally – into Dauntless. I’m telling you this because it will give you some context for why I like the things I do. Growing up Erudite meant that any question a child had was answered automatically, because they pursued knowledge above all things. I was inquisitive, to say the least, and both my parents were Erudite to the core – so anything I wanted to know, I was told. In hindsight, I was probably too young to know a lot of it. But regardless, I grew up in an open environment.

                “To continue, I learned a lot about a lot of things. However, as it’s relevant to this conversation, the point is that I learned a lot about sex. Erudite are open about sex, they don’t think it’s shameful or overly private – knowledge is power, after all. I lost my virginity to a girl when I was fourteen – way too young, I know. And if you really want to know all the sordid details, it was an absolute disaster. She was fifteen and a little older, more experienced – I still thought you just got on top and thrust away for a few minutes. It did it for me but certainly not for her, and I like to think that once my ego recovered from the severe lecture she gave me afterwards, I improved beyond recognition.” I have to laugh at that and he does too. “It’s not funny,” he grumbles, even though the effect is ruined by his laughter.

                “Sorry,” I say. “Oh, and sorry I spoke. Said I wouldn’t. Sorry.”

                “That’s fine,” he reassures, giving me a quick squeeze. “Your hair smells nice,” he adds, entirely randomly.

                “Thank you, although I can’t take the credit – Christina brought some new shampoo. I just borrowed it.”

                “Well it’s nice. Anyway, where was I?”

                “Not knowing what to do the first time,” I prompt, and he laughs again.

                “You’re entirely too insolent sometimes,” he reproves. “But thanks all the same. So, there’s fourteen year old me, absolutely _mortified_ about how wrong I got it and determined never to make the same mistakes again. I read several books and asked a lot of questions and when I was fifteen, I gave a girl an orgasm for the first time. I loved being in control even then, feeling like I had some influence on the world around me and the feeling I got when that girl came because of something I did was – well, pretty damn good. I realised pretty quickly that sex was fine, but that I wanted something _more_ from it. I enjoyed it, don’t get me wrong but I was looking for more than – and forgive my crudity – a girl who’d just spread her legs and let it happen to her. I wanted a partner, someone who could fight me for control but who would ultimately enjoy me winning. A few months before the test and my Choosing Ceremony, someone gave me a book called _How to Experiment Sexually_ and it blew my mind.” I start a little at the title of the book, wondering if it’s the same series as my _How to_ book. He doesn’t appear to notice, so I just cuddle back into his side.

                “Anyway, the book told me what I wanted and it was essentially a fairly mild version of a dominance/submissive relationship. I wanted women who were secure enough in themselves to know that relinquishing some control didn’t mean anything to them outside the bedroom. So when I saw you in that cupboard, wearing that blindfold and _knowing_ that if I kissed you that you would have kissed me back – I thought of you as the answer to my wildest dreams. I thought about what you’d look like naked in my bed, wearing only that blindfold and nothing else, as I took my time about exploring every inch of your skin. I thought about pleasuring you in ways that would make you scream my name and I thought about you riding my cock until all I could think about was your name and your cunt.”

 

He’s right, it is quite shocking. I remain quiet for some minutes and he must think I’m ready to bolt, because his next words are tinged with worry despite an obvious attempt to keep his voice light.

                “I told you it would bother you.”

                “It doesn’t bother me,” I say slowly. “At least, I mean it doesn’t frighten me or upset me.”

                “Then what’s on your mind about it all? I can hear the wheels turning.” I wriggle so I can look at his face, and he’s staring at the ceiling.

                “Can we move a bit? I want to see your face.” He obliges, sitting himself up and I perch next to him, wrapping my arms around my knees. “Don’t look so worried,” I reprove. “I’m not planning on bolting for the door.”

                “Thank God. I was afraid that I’d frighten you.”

                “Nonsense,” I say, briskly. “You know my fear sims only bring up three fears? This is unlikely to frighten me.”

                “So?”

                “I don’t know really,” I say, looking at him. “It’s – difficult to explain. I mean, look – it’s not like I haven’t _thought_ about it. You’re handsome, you’re passionate and you make me hot, but I – well, it’s not like I’ve got experience, is it? I mean, I’ve only kissed two people in my life. And I’ve never seen a man naked and while I know the basics it’s kind of hard to picture, you know?”

                “I know.”

                “You’ll think I’m very childish.”

                “No, I think you’re very sheltered. And it doesn’t change how I feel.” I look directly at him then, and put into words my private fears.

                “Are you sure you aren’t just interested in me because I’m so sheltered?” I ask bluntly. “Like I’d be a good go because I don’t know much about this stuff?” He looks so horrified I’m immediately reassured.

                “No!” he explodes. “Absolutely not. I wouldn’t feel any differently about you if you’d fucked your way through half the Faction – you’d still be Tris and I’d still love you. If anything, knowing how little you know made me doubt everything. I was fearful of frightening you off, that you’d find me too experienced or too much.”

                “Never,” I say, with some certainty. “I don’t know much. But I know that you wouldn’t push me, or ask more of me than I was ready to give.”

                “I would throw myself into the Chasm if you ever told me that my actions made you feel rushed or pressured. I don’t want to be with you because I might one day get to have sex with you. I want to be with you because you’re the most wonderful, infuriating, intriguing, wild woman I’ve ever met in my life and I love you.”

                “Does it bother you, that I can’t say that back?” I ask. He rubs his neck.

                “Well, a bit, yes. I put my heart out in front of you, and you don’t say it back – that’s always going to be a hit. But I’ll keep on saying it – until you can say it back, or until you tell me you never want to hear it again. I hope it’ll be the former, but I don’t want to hear it unless you mean it and you’re ready to say it.” He leans forward, framing my face in his hands. “Are you tired?” he asks, his voice soft and gentle.

                “Yes,” I admit. “Very.”

                “Do you want to go back to your rooms? Or do you want to stay here? You can have my bed, and I can sleep out here.”

                “I – I would prefer to go back, if you don’t mind. Just the others might question it otherwise and – I don’t want you to take this wrong, but for now I want to keep this secret. Just while it’s new and we’re figuring it out.” He nods.

                “I can agree to that. So – you still want to try this dating?”

                “I still want to try this dating. And I still want to kiss you.”

 

His smile is bright and big, and he’s still smiling when his lips come down on mine. I kiss him back, my own smile curving my lips, and for some time I let myself get lost in the feeling of his lips on mine and how my skin responds to his hands. And, privately at least, I think that I might already be sunk completely and that it would be terribly, terribly easy to fall in love with this complicated but wonderful man.


	36. Waking With A Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris and Eric have a lunch date, and Christina is confronted by her own feelings for her fellow initiate.

_SEPTEMBER 17 TH – 7TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE TWO (MORNING)_

 

When I wake the next morning, it takes me a few moments to place the happiness. But then I remember how I was kissed goodnight over and over, how I was held so closely but so tenderly, how I was given a promise from a man with passion in his eyes and tenderness in his lips.

 

_“We’ll keep it as a secret, for a little while at least. Not for too long, because I want to stand on the rooftops and yell to the whole city that you’re my woman. But as it’s what you want, I’ll give it to you.”_

I sit up cautiously and look round. The others are still sleeping, so I creep into the living room to dress. It’s just on half-past six in the morning, and I suppose if I wanted to I could go down to breakfast early. But I don’t really want to go alone and I have enough sense to realise I probably shouldn’t keep roving about and expending the energy I have been doing. I snag one of the library books the others got out off the shelf and look at it. _A History of the City._ Well, it’s better than nothing, anyway.

 

I’ve been reading for about half an hour before someone starts stirring. I hear padding footsteps and then the door opens. Christina comes out, bleary eyed and yawning.

                “Morning,” I say, and she jumps slightly.

                “God, you scared me. Morning.”

                “You OK?” I query.

                “Weird dreams. Bloody fear sims, you know?”

                “I know. Want to talk about it?”

                “Yeah. It’s like – the first few, I’m getting used to them, you know? But then it’s like my fifth or sixth fear and it’s hundreds and hundreds of insects, and they’re in my ears, in my nose, in my mouth, everywhere and I feel like I can’t breathe. Then I feel like they’re crawling all over me for hours and hours afterwards then I get over it and then I go to sleep and dream about it.” I toss the book onto the coffee table and hold out an arm.

                “Come here,” I say. She falls onto the sofa and I slip my arms around her. “They aren’t real.”

                “I know,” she says, resting her head on my shoulder. “Feel it though.”

                “How do you get rid of them, in the Sim?”

                “I don’t,” she says, ruefully. “I just panic blindly and they pull me out.”

                “What’s around you?” I query. “Before the insects appear?”      

                “Oh, um – I’m by this lake, outside the walls, and they just fly out of the sky. That’s when they start crawling all over me.”

                “Have you tried jumping into the lake?” I ask. Her head comes up and she stares at me. “Sorry, that sounded patronising and I swear I didn’t mean –“

                “I never even thought of that,” she says, wondering.

                “I’m an objective party,” I point out. “It’s not me who does it so I can think of it.”

                “I’ll try it,” she says decisively. “Can’t make it any bloody worse.” She’s quiet, her head back on my shoulder. “What’s your worst?”

                “The Chasm,” I say. “And Peter. And no matter what I do, I can’t run away from him, or find a weapon, or fight him.”

                “God. How are you doing with that?”

                “I’m dealing with it.” We stay snuggled on the sofa together, chatting about various things and eventually noises from the bedroom tell us that the boys are dragging themselves into the bathroom and getting up. Christina gets up to use the bathroom, but gets no further than opening the bedroom door before uttering a sound that can only be described as a squeak. She shoots out the front door so quickly it takes me a moment to process it. I get up and go over to the bedroom door, knocking firmly.

                “Just a second, Tris!” Will’s voice yells, sounding rather strangled. I take the hint, and it’s only a few minutes before a tousled head pokes round the door. “What’s up?”

                “Um – what just happened?” I demand. “Christina’s just bolted out of here like she’s been shot in the ass.”

                “She may have come in at an – inopportune time.”

                “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, baffled. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

                “She saw me naked.”

                “Ooohhh. I _see_. I’d better go and see if I can find her, then. Are you OK?”

                “Mortally embarrassed.”

                “Don’t worry,” I remark, from the safety of the front door. “It’s not fatal.”

 

I run Christina to earth in a far corner of the dining hall and perch myself opposite her.

                “I spoke to Will,” I say, fighting to keep my voice casual. “Are you OK?” She doesn’t seem able to speak, just shakes her head. “Want to talk about it?” She shakes her head again, so I pull a plate towards me and serve her breakfast, shoving it over to her. Mechanically, and clearly without knowing or tasting what she’s eating, she eats the food I give her and keeps staring at a spot over my shoulder. Will and Al appear and I wave. Al is grinning broadly and Will looks about as good as Christina does. Al deliberately sits down beside me. I nudge him. “Don’t be wicked,” I say reprovingly.

                “Well, they live together. Sleep next to each other, for God’s sake. They’ll have to discuss it eventually. I’m only surprised they haven’t seen each other naked already.”

                “Al!” I scold. “Stop making light of it. They’re obviously both embarrassed.” He opens his mouth again, but subsides when I scowl fiercely at him. I’m dying to laugh, but I daren’t. Christina seems to be balancing on a knife edge and I don’t want to push her over. I daren’t meet Al’s eye. He too seems to be avoiding it. Perhaps we’re both on the brink of wild laughter. I force myself to look around the dining hall instead.

 

The doors at the far end open and Eric strolls in. He has a broad smile on his face and this causes quite some disturbance, judging by all the people who turn in his direction. My stomach does a funny little flip and I find that I’m grinning at my plate. I did that. I made him come to breakfast smiling wide and with a swagger in his step. Thank God Will and Christina are in no shape to notice it and Al is still trying not to catch my eye. I can’t exactly explain to them when I had to prise the promise of secrecy from him. He’s looking for someone, his eyes searching the room. He’s just starting to frown when he sees me and I smile at him before my heart drops in my chest. I haven’t been to Medical.

                “I’ve got to go,” I announce, standing up. “Medical – totally forgot with everything. I’ll see you all in training, OK? If I’m late, can you tell Four please?”

                “Sure,” Al says, still the only one apparently capable of speech. “Do you want me to come with you?”

                “No, no,” I say, because secretly I hope Eric will follow me out. “I’ll be fine, and anyway Medical’s only about a two minute walk away, and it isn’t even down any dark passages.”

 

He does follow me, and I deliberately take a detour. He catches me in the quiet passage and casts a glance around before he crowds me into the wall. I smile up at him.

                “You’re on your own,” he states, eyes gleaming. “What if someone followed you?”

                “Perhaps I wanted to be followed,” I suggest, smiling up at him. He shakes his head at me, casting another quick glance around.

                “Can I kiss you?” he asks, his lips already only a breath away from mine. Instead of answering him verbally, I press my lips to his, feeling the curve of his smile under my own. His hands slide onto my neck, dipping into my hair. I make a little hum of pleasure as I open my mouth into the kiss with almost embarrassing eagerness, my hands finding his waist automatically and pulling his body closer to my own. “Meet me tonight?” he asks, breaking our kiss to rest our foreheads together.

                “If I keep disappearing at night, the others are going to start wondering where I’m going,” I point out.

                “After your fear sim, then,” he bargains. “I checked the lists, you’re right before lunch with Four, the others aren’t going until this afternoon. We can have lunch in my flat. Come there after the lunch period.”

                “Are you keeping tabs on me?” I tease.

                “Someone has to,” he answers. “Seeing as how you’re a fucking hazard. Where are you going anyway?”

                “Medical,” I answer. “We had a bit of flatmate-themed drama this morning so it slipped my mind until I saw you and the lecture I might have been subjected to had I missed it flashed before my eyes.”

                “I’ll trail along with you. You’ll be late for training,” he    

                “I know, I know. I asked the others to tell Four. And I’ll apologise most profusely when I get there too.”

                “I’ll walk as far as Medical with you and then dispatch myself to the Sims. I’ll tell Four what the situation is. But first, kiss me again to keep me going until I can have you to myself.”

 

One kiss turns into a rather frantic all-out kiss, and we only break apart when I say I hear footsteps. By the time we’ve both got ourselves tidied and have arrived at Medical, I’m already late for training, but it doesn’t stop me arriving with what I am certain is a stupid, dopey grin.

 

The doctor makes quick work of examining me and smiles when he’s bandaging my ribs back up.

                “We’re in a good mood this morning,” he says.

                “Yes,” I answer. “Slept really well, this morning something entertaining happened – life is good.”

                “Health is good too, so that can add to your good mood. We should be able to unstrap you by the end of the week and when that happens, I will release you from your obligation to spend most of your time with me. How’s the wrist?” he queries, unwrapping the fabric splint and putting his fingers on my palm. “Squeeze as hard as you can. Does that hurt?”

“Nope, just a bit more of an ache really.”

“Excellent. Causing you any pain, any stiffness?”

                “Not anything that the splint doesn’t cause.”

                “Brilliant. Well, you get over things quickly at least. How’s your face?”

                “Much better since you pushed the healing on a bit. Jaw still aches a bit if I try and eat anything really chewy.”

                “That’s normal, but it should die down soon. How’s your vision? Noticed any blurriness or double-vision?”

                “Nothing.” He shines a small light into my eyes.

                “Pupils react normally. Follow my finger.” I track it up, down and side to side and he nods.

                “Well, you’ve got the cleanest bill of physical health I can give at this time. Now, I have to ask – have you had any recurrence of the panic attacks? Any anxiety or difficulty sleeping?”

                “No, nothing.”

                “Good. You’ve done really well dealing with this, but if you do need support, or even just someone to talk to – we’re always here. You can come any time and ask for me or one of the nurses. For now, though, let me help you button up – there you are – and you can go to training. I’m sure if you get any stick over being late you can explain that you were here. Off you go – and don’t run!” he calls after me.

 

Four doesn’t say much beyond scowling at me, pointing out that I could have and should have gone to Medical earlier and telling me that if I do it again I’ll be assigned a punishment duty. I accept this as meekly as I can while Eric hangs out behind him pulling hideous faces. It’s a struggle not to laugh, but I am eventually dismissed to my seat and can take some revenge by shooting him looks that I hope look more “come hither” than “constipated owl”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANNOUNCEMENT FROM CAENEA HQ:
> 
> The sequel to this story will be entitled The Love We Bear and will be released when this story reaches its conclusion in around ten chapters.
> 
> Currently the planning is for it to be told from Eric's point of view, instead of Tris'. Hope this meets with the approval of all who may be concerned :)


	37. The First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris and Eric have their first date and mutiny is in the ranks...

_SEPTEMBER 17 TH – 7TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE TWO (AFTERNOON)_

 

Four is looking at me, a frown on his face and the screens beeping away behind him.

                “What?” I ask.

                “You’ve never done that before,” he says. I shrug. It’s nice being able to shrug again, it can convey so many different emotions. This time, I did not try to run, or fight, or jump into the Chasm. Instead, I concentrated on telling myself the simulation was not going to leave me helpless. Somewhere in that simulation was something I could use to either get away or fight more effectively.

 

And there was. A gun in Peter’s waistband. I shrug again at Four and speak.

                “I figured there must be a way to fight him or do something.”

                “So you shot him in the face.”

                “It wasn’t real.”

                “No,” he says, still looking at me in that funny way. “It wasn’t. You’re done here. You’ve got enough time before lunch to go to Medical now if you want.”

 

I eat a very small lunch, claiming I’m not that hungry to the others. They’re complaining about having to waste a perfectly good morning sitting around only to have to go back after lunch.

                “You’d think that they could tell us each morning what time our Sim is. Or do it at the same time each day, so we know when to show up but can be free the rest of the time,” Will grumbles. He and Christina still won’t look each other in the eye. “It makes it a thousand times worse to sit around with our thumbs up our asses just thinking about it.”

                “Maybe that’s why they do it,” Al says, staring at his plate gloomily. “To get in our heads that little bit more.”

                “Probably. It’s all one giant fucking headfuck of a thing,” Will says, pushing his plate away more or less untouched. “Look, Tris – you’re always in and out of there in about ten minutes. What’s the secret?”

                “There’s no secret, I just don’t have a lot of fears.”

                “How many?”   

                “Three. Fear of being trapped, fear of being powerless, fear of being defenceless.” They all gawp at me.

                “How does that manifest?”

                “The Chasm. All three rolled into one.”

                “God. I wouldn’t mind only having three fears. Mine just get worse and worse as I go on. But is there a way to make them easier?”

                “There’s always a way to beat them,” I say. “I’ve been struggling with mine for days because I thought there was no way around them, but there’s always something in the Sim you can use. He had a gun in his waistband and –“

                “Whoa, who had a gun in his waistband?” Al demands.

                “Peter. In my Sim. That’s my Sim – the attack by the Chasm.” There’s a little silence around the table. “Anyway, he had a gun and I got it off him and I shot him in the face.”

                “Who have you been shooting in the face?” a voice demands, and we turn to see Uriah. “Good afternoon, my ducklings,” he says, plonking down beside Al. “So, Tris?”

                “Fear sim thing,” I answer, and he nods.

                “Wish one of mine had the answer of being able to shoot something in the face. Anyway, Lynn and Marlene and Mark and me have been talking. We want to ask the trainers if it’s really needful for us all to sit around all morning if we aren’t scheduled to do a fear sim – what are you all laughing at?”

                “We were just talking about just that,” Christina says. “And we agree. Are we sending a deputation?”

                “No. We thought that if we each say something when we go in, and if Tris, Lynn, Marlene and Mark mention it tomorrow as they’ve already done theirs today, it might have a bit more of an impact because then they know it’s most of us.”

                “I can get on board with that,” I say easily.

                “I’m down for it. I could have glorious lie-ins. We were saying, Uriah, that if they gave us lists the night before, or even gave us a specific time and said this is when your sim will be from now on, we could just show up for that,” Christina says. Uriah nods.

                “We hadn’t got that far,” he answers. “But it’s a really good idea, and they might respond more positively to the suggestion if we had thoughts on how it could work.” He gets back up and grins round. “Thanks all. I’ll report back to my lot.”

 

He goes and the others start thinking about packing up.

                “What are you going to do, Tris?” _Spend an uninterrupted amount of time kissing Eric’s face off_ , I think, and have to fight the urge to giggle madly.

                “Oh, drift about,” I say. “Probably just amble back to the flat and read. Might go and see Bud – I’m thinking about something new.”

                “Alright. Well, if you’re still drifting when we’re done, will we see you at dinner?”

                “Of course,” I answer.

 

I go to his flat with excitement sitting warm in my belly and a stupid smile plastered all over my face. I barely finish knocking before the door is opened and he’s pulling me inside, kicking the door closed even as he kisses me hot and hard.

                “Horrible tease,” he mutters against my lips. As much as I love kissing him and knowing my looks during training did get him riled, kissing him like this is far from comfortable. Fortunately, he solves that by picking me bodily from the floor, holding me by the legs instead of the waist. I laugh, wrapping my legs around his waist and bending my head to keep kissing him. He carries me over to his chair, sitting down with me still in his lap. His hands are running all over me - on my hips, in my hair and on my shoulders; against my neck, at my back and moving too quickly for me to keep track. I melt into him, palms flat against his chest as he tips his head back so I can keep kissing him. He feels firm under my hands, muscles flexing as he moves his hands. “Stop,” he pants, pulling away from me and gripping my hips warningly. I feel the heat of the blush as I realise I’ve been rocking my hips against him. “If I was a better man, I would throw you off my lap right now and have us sit a respectable five feet apart at all times,” he says, breath ragged. He releases my hips to sweep my hair to the side, pulling me down to his mouth so he can nip the skin of my neck gently between his teeth. I gasp at the sensation, tilting my head to give him better access because I swear I’ve never felt this good. “But I am not a good man and as a result you will be staying right here.” He whispers the words against my neck and a shudder of pure pleasure runs through me as his breath blooms hot against the skin.

                “I missed you,” I say, turning my head to catch his lips with mine.

                “You saw me in training,” he says, smiling up at me.

                “I missed kissing you,” I amend. He smirks, and I poke him in the chest. “Don’t look so smug.”

                “Or you’ll do what?”

                “I’ll go and sit the five feet away from you.” He promptly grabs my hips again and smirks some more.

                “Don’t you dare, woman.”

 

We manage to prise ourselves apart long enough to eat something, and then we curl back up on the sofa together, much as we did last night. For quite some time, we just lie there, happy to hold and be held, and words for now are not necessary. It’s me who breaks the silence, still idly tracing random patterns on his shirt.

                “So, is there anything I need to know about the fearsome, temperamental Eric?” I ask.

                “Probably plenty,” he says lazily. “What do you want to know?”

                “Everything,” I answer promptly. “What makes him laugh, what makes him sad, his favourite food and his least-favourite things.”

                “So not much, then. Well, my favourite food is beef stew. I don’t like liars, or the rain. I laugh when I see something funny, like everybody else.”

                “Don’t be smart,” I say, laughing anyway. “I love the rain, and the snow. Everything looks so clean afterwards, as if the city’s been polished. There’s nothing so beautiful as fresh snow.”

                “I can think of something.”         

                “What?” I ask, momentarily diverted from his shirt.

                “You,” he answers bluntly. I flush.

                “Don’t be stupid,” I answer. “I’m nothing special. No, don’t start denying me. I’m not. It doesn’t upset me and I’m not saying it to get compliments. I’m nothing special. I’m not hideous, but I’m hardly what could be called _beautiful_.” He drops it, thankfully, and I turn our conversation to safer ground. “What’s your favourite colour?”

                “Green. What’s yours?”

                “Scarlet. Vivid red, like a sunrise.”

 

We fall asleep together eventually, and when I wake, he’s snuggled up behind me, arm over my waist and something hard and insistent pressing into me. I wriggle, and a sleepy groan makes me freeze. In his sleep, he presses forward, pulling me into him, grinding into me with an intensity that sparks my arousal so fiercely I suddenly feel like I’m short of breath.

                “Eric,” I gasp. His eyes fly open and he sits up, moving away from me rapidly.

                “Fuck, Tris, I’m sorry –“ I catch his arm to stop him leaving completely.

                “No, don’t!”

                “I don’t want to rush you,” he mutters, looking guilty. “I mean, God knows how badly I want you naked but I won’t ask anything of you that you aren’t ready to give.”

                “Thank you,” I say, softly. “I – I’m so fucking – I’m aroused, I’m not going to lie about that. And I’m desperately curious but I’m not ready. Not yet.” He nods, pressing his lips to mine in a heated, hasty, messy kiss.

                “I know. And I’ll wait until you are, I won’t push you. I’ll wait for you to make that move.” I nod, kissing him again.

 

I have to force myself to leave him to go to dinner, even though it’s a wrench to go. But I know I can’t neglect the others for him, and when I get to dinner and see Christina flushed with triumph and full of how she got past the insects in her fear sim, I know I’ve made the right choice. Eric is becoming a big part of my life, but these three stood by me when nobody else would and we will always be close as a result.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's only one today!
> 
> I'm having a shocker today - the fridge/freezer is on the fritz, Baby Caenea (10 months now!) is on a nap strike and wants to do things like lick the radiators, and Mr Caenea is trying to redecorate our bedroom. 
> 
> Meanwhile I need to get on with my editings. Please forgive our chaos :)


	38. The Mystery of the Whistling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric's improved mood draws speculation from the initiates and Tris confronts Drew with his actions.

_SEPTEMBER 18 TH – 8TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE TWO (MORNING)_

                “Tris, if you say one word about us giving you training times so you can ‘just show up’ for your specific sim slot, I’ll knock you out,” Four says as he bangs the door closed behind him. I shut my mouth right up on the words and smile at him as I hop into the chair.

                “Poor you,” I say, laughing. “You have had a time of it, haven’t you?”

                “You’re a goddamn nightmare.”

                “While I would normally support your assertion, in this case this really isn’t my fault,” I say, smirking. “Blame Will and Uriah, they were really the masterminds on this one. I just happened to agree with them.” He scowls at me. “Well, are you going to let us?” I demand and his scowl increases ten-fold, and he approaches me with the fear serum.

                “We’re thinking about it. Now, shut up and do your sim so I don’t have to see you for the rest of the day.”

 

He boots me out straight after and I mooch over to where Uriah is sitting with his feet up on one of the spare chairs, chatting to Will and Al. I accept the water bottle he offers me and kick Uriah’s feet off the chair so I can join the circle.

                “Did you talk to him?” he asks.

                “He’s in a mood,” I answer. “Barely got in the door before he told me that if I did say anything, he’d knock me out.” He snorts.

                “Miserable git. It’s like he and Eric swapped personalities overnight. I caught him whistling earlier – fucking weird.”

                “Who, Eric?” I ask, even though I know the answer.

                “Yeah, just ambling along towards the dining hall and whistling to himself. He even started smiling for no reason at one point.” I stamp hard on my own urge to smile and raise my eyebrows into a ‘you’re right, that is weird’ expression.

                “How very strange,” I say, taking a mouthful of some water.

                “Maybe he’s finally found someone to fuck,” Will suggests. I choke on the water, spluttering and coughing. Al bangs me on the back while I hang onto my ribs and grimace at the pain it causes. Well, that was subtle.

                “You alright?” Al asks, some concern colouring his face.

                “Yeah,” I wheeze. “Just went down the wrong way.” I shake my head at Will. “You’re filthy.”

                “Actually he might have a point,” Uriah says, grinning madly. “It would make sense – and would certainly explain the excellent new mood.”

                “Who do you think it is?” Al asks, smirking now.

                “Who knows? Lauren, maybe?” Will suggests. Uriah shakes his head.

                “Nah, she’s got a guy. My money’s on the girl who runs the tattoo shop – Tori.”

                “What makes you think that?” Al queries.

                “Seems like the type, doesn’t she? Kind of wild, kind of spiky.” But Al shakes his head.

                “No, he seems like the kind of guy to go for petite but ballsy.”

                “So like Tris?” Will questions. I _feel_ the blush sweep my face and hope wildly and probably pointlessly that nobody sees it or thinks to query it.

                “Yes, like Tris,” he confirms.

                “Who’s Christina in with?” I query, determined to change the subject.

                “Oh, Max. Which should be obvious as you were with Four?”

                “Oh yes,” I mutter, still flustered and trying not to show it.

                “Tris, you’ve gone awfully red, are you OK? And you seem a bit flustered. Oh, God, sorry, did we embarrass you by saying you’re Eric’s type?” Will asks.

                “No, no,” I mutter. “You know, I’m not feeling quite right. I need to go to Medical anyway, shall I see you guys at lunch?”

 

I go to Medical and get checked, passed off with a clean bill of health and find there’s only five minutes until lunch. I decide I may as well just go to the dining hall, but halfway there a voice calls my name.

                “Tris!” I turn, and take an automatic step backwards. Drew is approaching, hands held out in front of him. He stops a decent distance away and looks slightly awkward.

                “What do you want?” I demand.

                “I just want to talk.” I glare.

                “You just want to talk,” I repeat. He flushes.

                “I – I spoke to Molly. Tris, I swear to God I didn’t know what it was Peter was planning. He said he just wanted to scare you, that he was just gonna corner you, you know?”

                “And you believed him.”

                “I – I was afraid to go against him. He’s a – I’m afraid of him. He said to me that he wanted to just talk to you, intimidate you a bit so he could prove you shouldn’t have beaten him in the rankings.”

                “Well what did you think that meant?”

                “I didn’t think,” he mutters, twisting his fingers together and staring at floor.

                “Look at me!” I snap. His head jerks up. “He nearly killed me. You helped him do that. And all you can say to me is that you didn’t think?” I shake my head, angry beyond reason at him for his weakness. “You didn’t have to go with him. You didn’t have to land the blows. You didn’t have to slam my head into the wall of the Chasm. But you did do those things and I don’t think you actually regret it. I think you regret how far it went because you saw what Eric did to Peter.” I take a step closer to him and he shrinks back. “Tell Peter that he should thank his lucky stars that Eric got to him before I could. Tell Peter that what Eric did to him is nothing _– nothing_ – compared to what I would have done. And you should be ashamed. You are not Dauntless. Dauntless don’t hide in dark passages to ambush their competition. They aren’t the snivelling cowards that you and Peter are. Because think about it, Drew – if Peter didn’t think I deserved the rank I got, then why didn’t he fight me in the arena? Why did he choose to ambush me and then beat me so badly my fucking spleen ruptured – while he knew I couldn’t fight back? Think about that.”

 

He retreats away from me, his face dark with anger. I turn to keep going to the dining hall, but before I get to the end of the corridor, Eric steps out of the shadows.

                “How long were you standing there?” I demand, irritation still soaking me.

                “I’m not going to fight with you,” he says evenly, looking down at me. “And I heard pretty much all of it but inferred from your tones that it was your battle.”

                “Thank you,” I say. “For letting me deal with him, I mean.”

                “My pleasure. I have to say – you’re damn sexy when you’re in a rage.” That throws me off, and I can’t help the smile.

                “You were standing behind me,” I point out. “The most you could have seen was my posture.”

                “It was a very sexy posture,” he counters, and that makes me laugh. “That’s my girl,” he says, smiling at me. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s not worth enough to kiss the ground you walk on.”

                “You’re a fine one to tell me not to let people get to me.”

                “Yes. Much like you, I’m very good at giving advice, but lousy at taking it.” I try and look disapproving, but I can’t help the smile. I glance around.

                “Kiss me?” I ask, quietly. He grins.

                “I thought you’d never ask me.” He kisses me, sliding his arms around me and bending over me to pull me up to my tiptoes. “Hmmm,” he sighs, pulling back and rubbing his thumb over my lips. “I would die a happy man if I got to die after one of your kisses. How long do we keep this a secret? I want to kiss you all the time and it’s very difficult when we’re trying to hide.”

                “Not much longer,” I promise. “I want to at least tell Christina and the guys first. They should know before we just start kissing at breakfast.” He nods.

                “That’s fair. When can we be alone?”

                “When are you free?”

                “Not this afternoon. I have a meeting with Max. Tonight? Can you get away?” I make my decision very quickly.

                “I’ll tell them after lunch, and meet you after dinner?” His face lights up and I hasten to clarify my meaning. “Just them for now, OK? I don’t think I’m ready right now to be the focus of everyone’s gossip again,” I warn.

                “No, I understand. But it’s hard seeing you and not being able to hold you or kiss you.”

                “I know. Don’t you think I feel the same? I’ll see you tonight,” I say. “Shall I come to your flat?”

                “No. Come to the roof. I know you know it.” I nod, all too ready to agree. “Can I walk you to lunch at least?”

                “Yes. Come on.”

 

I long to reach out for his hand, to feel his warm thumb rubbing a trail over my knuckles. I won’t be able to sit on this for long. I wanted to, until I sorted out my feelings, but I don’t need to sort them out now. I know I’m certain about him. I know I’m falling in love.


	39. The Confessional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris tells her friends her secret and gets a surprising reaction...

_SEPTEMBER 18 TH – 8TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE TWO (AFTERNOON)_

 

It bursts out of me like a speeding train out of a tunnel.

                “I’m dating Eric.” Super smooth, Tris girl, pat on the back for you today. Subtlety has never exactly been a strong point of mine. Christina sits bolt upright, gawping at me.

                “Excuse me, Beatrice,” Christina says, using my full name. I wince. “Did I hear correctly? Did you just say that you were _dating Eric_? The Eric?”

                “Yes, the Eric,” I say, fighting valiantly to keep my cool. “Yes, I am dating him.” The silence stretches on and on, the nerves in my stomach turning into snakes and writhing madly.

                “I fucking knew it!” she screams, and the delight on her face confuses me. “I knew there was something going on! How long has this been happening? How did this happen? Who asked who? Have you kissed? Have –“

                “Whoa, whoa,” I protest, half-laughing. “Cool it.”

                “Sorry,” she says. She’s literally bouncing with excitement. “But this is probably the most thrilling thing that’s ever happened to me and we are very pleased. Aren’t we guys?”

                “I knew there was something up when you went all wriggly and red when we were talking about Eric earlier,” Will says, smirking. “You are a crap liar.”

                “Yeah, I need to work on that,” I say ruefully. “I’d be a rubbish spy.” But as much as the support of Will and Christina means to me, Al’s matters more – and so far, he hasn’t said a single word. “Al?” I ask. He looks up, and he’s frowning.

                “Does he make you happy?” he asks me, and I nod.       

                “Yes, he does.”

                “Then I’m happy,” he says, and his smile is so open and so honest, that I know immediately that he’s telling me the truth. I get up from my seat in one of the armchairs and go over to where he’s sat on the sofa with Christina. I hug him tight.

                “Thank you,” I whisper, before I pull back. He cups my face in his hand briefly, his smile soft and eyes warm.

                “Fair warning,” he says, “if he hurts you, regardless of who he is, I’ll hunt him down.”

                “Do you want me to tell him that?” I ask, laughing. He laughs too, and shakes his head.

                “I can carry my own threats, but thank you for the offer. Now, I think you might need to address Christina, because otherwise I’m slightly worried that she might explode.”

                “Oh God,” I mutter. I return to my seat, curling up and smiling at her. “You may commence your interrogation.” Her whole face lights up and she leans forward. Will laughs.

                “Tris, you do realise you’ve just given us implicit permission to ask you questions until the end of time?”

                “You’ve got until dinner. And this, by the way, does not leave this room. We aren’t ready to go public yet.”

                “That’s fair – although, if you actually expect to keep it secret, you might want to tell _him_ to stop whistling and _you_ might want to stop going around with a goofy grin,” Al points out. “Otherwise everyone will eventually guess.”

                “I’ll pass that on,” I say, and I just know I’m wearing the exact goofy grin he refers to.

                “Can I ask her questions now please?” Christina demands. Will grins at me.

                “She’s all yours.”

                “Finally! You, spill, now.”

                “Alright, alright,” I grumble, but there’s no heat to it. “It’s been going on a grand total of a day and a half. As for how it happened, I asked to meet him to discuss the issues we were having about the whole Peter incident. We talked, I explained why I was so pissed off with him and he accepted that and apologised. We discussed our mutual attraction and I raised the concern that while I was – am – very attracted to him but didn’t really feel like I knew him very well. He suggested that that was why people dated, to get to know each other, so we agreed to date each other. And yes, we have kissed.”

                “Thank you, that was all most satisfactory. Is he a good kisser?” she demands. I blush scarlet.

                “He’s fine, thank you,” I mutter.

                “Is he better than Al?”

                “Christina!”

                “Sorry, that was out of line. So, how many dates have you had? When’s the next date?”

                “We have had one date – yesterday. And I’m meeting him tonight, if that’s OK.”

                “Only if we get the gossip afterwards.” I roll my eyes at her and Will laughs, standing up.

                “You know, ladies, I think I might let you get on with this one on your own and uninterrupted. I don’t want to know most of this and frankly picturing Eric kissing anyone, even Tris, isn’t something I really want to have in my head. So I think I’ll go to the Pit and see if Uriah is done with his Sim.”

                “I think I’ll come with you,” Al says, jumping up.

                “No, don’t leave me alone with her!” I cry, but they only laugh. As they open the door to leave, she pounces and under the combined weight, the chair topples backwards and we end up in a heap on the floor, laughing so hard that my ribs ache and tears are starting in my eyes. “Get off me!” I cry, giggling helpless. “Ow, it hurts. Stop making me laugh, help me up.” We drag ourselves off the floor, and find that the boys obviously left in the middle of all the fun.

                “God, I’m sorry, I didn’t know the thing would go over like that,” she says, biting her lip between giggles. “You aren’t hurt are you?”

                “I don’t think so, but oh God, laughing hurts.” We manage to calm down eventually, and she looks at me mischievously.

                “So, how far have you gone with him?” she asks.

                “Well, we just went to his flat for the first date, so –“

                “That’s not what that question means, Tris. It means what have you done with him – sexually.”

                “Christina! We’ve just kissed. And that’s all we’re going to be doing for a fair while. I do really, really like him but I know very well that I’m not ready for – well, sex.”

                “That’s sensible of you,” she says, her face serious now. “I know you aren’t as experienced as us and I don’t want you to rush into something you might end up regretting.” She bites her lip suddenly.

                “What?” I ask.

                “I- I need to say something to you, but I don’t want you to take it as patronising or as a dig at Eric, because I don’t mean it as either. And yet, it’s going to be awfully difficult to say without giving either of those impressions, if you see what I mean.”

                “OK,” I say. “We can take all that as read. I won’t get annoyed. Just say it.”

                “Well, alright then. He’s more experienced than you, isn’t he?” I nod. “Well then, you’re starting off uneven, as it were. Kissing might be enough for you for a long time, whereas he might not be happy for that to be all there is. And he - he might want more from you than you’re ready to give and I want you to know that if he does try and pressure you into sex or anything you don’t want to give him, he’s a scumbag of the highest order. I want you to know that any decent guy will let you set the pace and will wait for you to be ready and won’t take it badly if you say you aren’t ready. I don’t say he won’t _imply_ that he wants sex, if he doesn’t outright ask for it. That’s fine. What’s not fine is if he tries to push you, or if he says things like ‘If you loved me you’d do it’. That’s _horrible_ and isn’t OK. So I want you to know that if he ever does anything that makes you feel uncomfortable or if he ever tries to push you into sex, you can say no and walk away. We’d do whatever you needed us to do if you told us and asked for help – and I know I speak for Will and Al too, when I say that.” She stops, and looks at me.

                “That doesn’t upset me,” I say immediately. “It’s great that you care enough to say it. And I know that Eric might want to go further before I do, but we – we did talk about it yesterday. He said that he wouldn’t ask anything of me that I wasn’t ready to give and that he’d wait for me to make the first move.” She smiles at that.

                “Well, that is good. Maybe he’s not a complete asshat after all.”

                “He’s not,” I say, clasping my hands around my legs and resting my chin on my knees. “Not when you get him alone. I think we’ve been winding each other up to be honest, bringing out the worst in each other. If that makes sense, anyway.”

                “I wouldn’t say you’ve brought out the worst in each other. I think you were both attracted to each other from the very beginning, but he was in denial and you – forgive me – were too naive to understand what was going on. I think you challenged him where he’d never really been challenged before, and he didn’t know how to respond to it. I think he was the first person you came across who actually got on your nerves properly and because you weren’t encouraged to get irritated in Abnegation, you had no idea how to respond to him. Sure, a lot of it was irritation on both sides, but it was caused by mutual misunderstanding and wilful blindness.” I have to consider that for quite some time and actually, I think she has a point. “Now you’ve actually managed to sort it out, all is well.”

                “I think you’re right,” I say slowly. “I did feel like he was a big part of my initiation and that doesn’t really make sense when you think about it, because he wasn’t. But thinking about it, I paid a lot of attention to him, and wanted to impress him – especially when he was stubbornly refusing to consider me a serious contender.”

                “Exactly.”

                “How’d you get so wise?” I ask, and she laughs.

                “I’ve made my share of mistakes with guys. I want to try and help you not repeat those mistakes.”

                “Thank you. That means a lot, really it does. You’re a good friend.”

                “I am,” she says, preening a little.

                “And so modest!”

                “It’s overrated. So – who is the better kisser? Eric or Al?” I have to laugh, and push her off the sofa. She jumps up and hits me with a pillow, and in the laughter that follows, the interrogation is left by the wayside and by the time dinner rolls around, we’re deep in conversation about tattoos and piercings. She leads the way to dinner, and I let her tug me along with my hand tucked through her arm.

 

I don’t deserve such good friends, but God am I glad I have them anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Afternoon!
> 
> My lateness can be explained by three words...
> 
> GAME OF THROOOOOONES.


	40. Party Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gang discuss a party and Tris is enlisted to get Eric on side...

_SEPTEMBER 18 TH – 8TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE TWO (EVENING)_

Dinner is beef stew and I smile, remembering that Eric told me it was his favourite. He’s over the far side of the hall with Four and Lauren, apparently having a highly interesting conversation to judge by the amount of fork waving. Insatiable curiosity will one day get me into serious trouble, but I still want to know what he finds such an interesting topic of conversation.

                “What do you think Tris?” Will asks, and I blink, turning to look at him. Mortified, I realise that while I’ve been thinking about Eric and what he might find interesting, I’ve totally blanked their conversation.

                “Sorry? I – I was miles away.”

                “Happens to the best of us, but for the time being put your eyes back in and listen to me. What do you think of organising a little soiree?” Will says, smirking at me.

                “What’s the occasion?”

                “You really _weren’t_ listening. There’s no occasion, you don’t need an occasion. But if you really want to put a name on it, we want to have a small housewarming party. Invite Uriah, Lynn, Marlene, that Mark chap, Four, Lauren – _Eric_ , if he wants to come.” I roll my eyes at the emphasis on Eric’s name.

                “It’s a bit late for a housewarming, we’ve been living there over a week.”           

                “Yes, but we could hardly have a housewarming with you in and out of Medical, could we?”

                “How sweet of you.”

                “Don’t be smart. Would you want to add to that guest list? And what do you think of the idea?”

                “I like it,” I say, decisively. “And it’ll do everyone good to relax. Maybe invite Molly? Actually, has anyone _seen_ Molly?”

                “I – have not seen her since she ate lunch with us that day,” Will says, frowning suddenly.

                “Nor me,” Al says.

                “I don’t think she’s been in training either,” Christina says. We stare at each other, and guilt floods me. I told her she could hang with us, that we’d stand with her against Peter – and now nobody’s seen her in days and not one of us has even noticed. 

                “I’ll ask Eric tonight,” I say decisively. “It may be that she’s requested alternative training times so she can avoid Peter, and they’ve granted that request. If that’s the case, I’ll try and track her down and repeat the fact that she is welcome to hang around with us – are you guys still happy for that to be the case?” I enquire. They all nod and agree. “Thank you. Anyway, I’ll ask Eric tonight. It might be that there’s a really simple explanation so it wouldn’t do to jump the gun and start panicking if there’s no need.”

                “Good idea,” Al says, nodding. “And just think – where would we all be if he wasn’t your new toy?”

                “He’s not my _toy_ ,” I say, elevating my nose as far as I can. “He’s my pet.” That gets laughter and jeering, but Will returns to the subject of the housewarming.

                “You might also ask him if we’re allowed to do such things as throw housewarmings. No need to end up getting yelled at if it can be avoided. But for now let’s assume we can and start thinking – should we have a theme?”

                “A theme?” I ask. “What do you mean a theme?”

                “Well, fancy dress, or a dress code – parties often have themes.”

                “In my defence, I have attended two parties in my entire life,” I say. “One being my birthday and one being the end of stage one.”

                “That’s a point. Well, they do often have themes,” Will repeats.

                “I don’t think we should do fancy dress, it seems daft for such a small party,” Christina says. “But a theme might be good, if we can think of a decent one. There’s nothing worse than a contrived theme that’s been poorly thought out.”

                “What sorts of things do people do for themes?” I ask, scooping up another potato.

                “I went to a rainbow one once,” Christina says. “You remember Kalia, Al? Her fourteenth birthday.”

                “Bit childish,” Will comments.

                “She was a bit childish really. But I’m not suggesting it; I’m trying to give Tris ideas of themes,” Christina says, with no small amount of dignity. Then, for no reason at all, she blushes scarlet and stops looking at him. I’m going to have to interfere, but before I can, she hurries on. “Oh, there’s black and white parties too, not that I ever went to one given the Candor colours,” she says, laughing. “There’s pyjama parties, Bad Shirt parties, Glow in the Dark parties, Murder Mystery parties –“

                “I’ve got it!” Al says, slapping the table with an open palm so loudly that Christina jumps. “Seven Deadly Sins!” Christina’s eyes light up and she beams.

                “Al, you absolute genius!”

                “I’m confused,” I say. “What is festive about the deadly sins?”

                “Well, the idea is that you decorate the house according to the sins – the food table is Gluttony; the sofa is Sloth; Greed is the table with the drinks on it; Pride is a mirror; Envy is an unequal gift station – so one party bag might contain a button, and the next money or jewellery; Wrath is a - a – maybe a table with personalised insults in named envelopes to rile people up; and then Lust is, obviously, either the bedroom or a kissing booth.”

                “We wouldn’t have space for a kissing booth,” Christina says, considering this. “It would have to be the bedroom. We could maybe rig up some screens around one of the beds and make it look sexy – red drapes or something.”

                “And you could tailor the drinks too, so people could order specific ones. There was a book in the library about cocktails.”

                “Wouldn’t it all cost rather a lot?” I ask dubiously.

                “Not at all. I will say this for this Faction; they have _serious_ experience in throwing parties. When we were planning yours, there were loads and loads of party shops that offered spectacular deals. And if we asked each guest to bring a bottle of some kind, we could use that to make the various cocktails,” Christina explains.

                “We’d have to specify what they should bring,” Al ponders.

                “That’d be easy enough.”

                “When should we do it?” Will asks. “Because you know, we haven’t too much time before the end of stage two. That’s on the 25th – the last day is, anyway, so the 26th will be the tests and I don’t think anyone will want to show up to _those_ hungover. And it’s the 18 th now.”

                “Well, how about we do it on the 24th?” I ask. “That would give us six days to plan and be honest, if people aren’t ready by the 25th, that last day probably won’t help them.”

                “That’s a good scheme,” Will agrees, gesturing with his fork. “Let’s do that then. We can plan tomorrow night, we can have a meeting in the flat. Everyone should come with a few ideas of decor, cocktails, colour schemes and whatnot. Al, can you get the cocktails book out the library? And anything they might have on the Deadly Sins?”

                “Sure, I’ll go tomorrow after my Sim, whenever it is. Tris, you’ll ask Eric tonight – about if we can have the party?”               

                “Absolutely,” I say.

                “Better ask him first thing,” Christina says with a lascivious wink. “In case you get _distracted_.” I blush, but manage to keep my head up.

                “I assure you, I am not that easily distracted.”

                “Well, good.”

                “Anyway, I should go,” I say, standing up. “I need to pop along to Medical first.” I say goodbye and slip out, noting as I do that Eric is already gone.

                “Tris, wait up!” I turn as Christina hurries up. “You’re not upset at me, are you?” she asks.

                “Why would I be upset with you? Come on, we’ll walk and talk, or I’ll be late.”

                “Because of the crack I made about you getting distracted.”

                “Of course not, idiot. I’d have said if I was. Actually though, I’m glad you caught up with me – when are you and Will going to address the elephant in the room?”

                “I – I don’t know what you mean.” I snort.

                “Like hell you don’t. You can barely even look each other in the eye. He obviously likes you too, so please, will you just tell him and ask him out?”

                “I –“

                “I’ll lock you both in a supply cupboard, I swear to God.”

                “Fine! I’ll tell him.”

                “Tell him tonight. I can’t take much more of the blushing and awkwardness.”

                “Yes mother,” she says, and I laugh.

                “Seriously, Christina, if he doesn’t say yes immediately, I will be your personal slave for the next three days. Foot rubs, drinks, whatever.”

                “That’s an intriguing offer. If I bump into Eric on my way back, do you want me to tell him you’re just in Medical?”

                “Please.”

 

 


	41. Dangerous Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris and Eric have their second date, but both of them inadvertently reveal too much and their secrets begin to manifest...

_SEPTEMBER 18 TH – 8TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE TWO (NIGHT)_

 

The check-up is brief in the extreme and I hurry up to the roof as much as I can. I’m down to light strapping now, and feel so much better for it. When I reach the roof, he’s already there, silhouetted against the sunset. He turns as I fling the door open and smiles at me. I bounce into his arms immediately, kissing him at once. He responds with equal enthusiasm, hands diving into my hair and tilting my head back. The height disparity prevents lengthy kissing, but it’s very satisfying for all of that. I sigh happily as we draw apart.

                “Hi,” I say, wrapping my arms around him and resting my head on his chest.       

                “Hello,” he answers. “Aren’t we a cheerful monster tonight?”

                “I’m down to light bandages,” I inform him, then crane my neck so I can smirk at him. “And the doctor says I am fit for light to moderate exercise.”

                “Oh, well, that is good news.”

                “And I told my friends about us, and they were very excited and very pleased.” He relaxes in my arms. “Were you – were you worried about it?” I ask, curious about his reaction.

                “A bit, yes. I don’t need to be told that I am rarely popular with the initiates of this Faction. I was worried your friends wouldn’t approve, or that they’d give you a hard time about it. I know how much they mean to you.”

                “Thank you,” I say, burrowing closer into his arms.

                “What for?”

                “For caring, I guess.” He laughs at that.

                “Want to watch the sunset with me?” He steps back, and gestures. Turning, I see a bench set against the far wall of the roof.

                “I never noticed that before.”

                “That’s because you don’t pay enough attention to your surroundings,” he points out. I join him on the bench, and he pulls me into his side so I can rest my head on his shoulder.

                “Oh, and before I forget, I’ve been instructed to ask you something.”

                “If it’s about Fear Sim times and schedules –“

                “No, no.”

                “Good, because Four has been bending my ear all through dinner. You lot have taken _years_ of his life with your nagging.”

                “He’ll live through it.”

                “Be that as it may, I’ve still had my fill of it for tonight. What was it?”

                “We want to throw a flat-warming and wanted to be sure that this was something we were allowed to do.”

                “Oh sure, knock yourselves out,” he says easily, kissing my hair. “What kind of party?”

                “We haven’t worked out all the details. We wanted to be sure we were allowed first. But the others _are_ more than happy to invite you along.”

                “Did you have a date in mind?”

                “We thought the 24th. That way if people did get a little worse for wear, they’d have a day to recover before the tests.”

                “That’s a good idea. Yes, you can throw all the parties you want. This is a Faction that enjoys parties. And I would love to come. Can I ask, though – will we be public by then?”

                “Yes,” I say, immediately. “I just wanted to ask about that – is there anyone you want to tell first?”

                “Four,” he says at once. “I’m pretty sure he knows anyway, and I want to give him the chance to grill me about it.”

                “Tell him, then we can go public however you want,” I say, and his face lights up.

                “Do you mean that?” he asks.

                “I mean it.”

                “I’ll tell him first thing. And now, I wanted to ask you something.”

                “Anything.”

                “Who is the third raven for?” he asks, touching my shoulder through my jacket. “Your parents, obviously.”

                “My brother Caleb,” I say. “He’s older than me; he had his Choosing last year.”

                “Did he stay with Abnegation?” he asks.

                “He did not. He transferred to Erudite.”

                “Erudite?”

                “It shocked us all. And uh – well, he isn’t in touch anymore. Something changed a while ago, a couple of months before my Choosing Ceremony. He used to make an effort to see my parents – like he’d show up where he knew they’d be at specific times, you know? But then he stopped, but before he stopped he was getting weird. He was arguing with my father all the time, about Marcus Eaton and about the way Abnegation ran things.” Eric has gone rather stiff beside me, and some instinct tells me that something isn’t right. “What’s wrong?”

                “I didn’t know your brother was Erudite.”

                “Why would you?”

                “No reason,” he says carefully. I pull away from him and frown, trying to read his expression, as if what I want to know might be written there.

                “You’re lying to me,” I say. “Maybe not in words, but by omission. What aren’t you telling me?”

                “I can’t tell you.” I guess I understand that. I have secrets too, after all – secrets I can’t even tell him. Secrets I haven’t even told Christina, for Gods sake. “You, uh – you aren’t going to question that?”

                “I know what it is to need to keep secrets,” I say, carefully. “So I understand.”

                “Ah, yes. Wanting to leave your Faction.” I nod, because really that’s not too far from the truth.

                “That’s not to say that I think it’s healthy, starting a new relationship with secrets.”

                “I wish I could tell you, but – there are factors at play that I can’t go against. Can you understand that?”

                “I suppose. Will you tell me?”

                “Only if I have no other choice.”

                “I see. I suppose that’s fair.” But for all that, and for all I understand, I still don’t return to his arms.

                “I’d tell you,” he says, his voice sounding a little desperate now. “But I – I cannot. You can’t know.”

                “I said I understood, Eric,” I say, a hint of steel tinging my voice now.

                “I don’t,” he mutters. But it’s all he says, before he changes the subject firmly. “How are your fear sims going?”

                “Fine,” I answer. “Turns out the answer was in front of me the whole time.”

                “Oh?”

                “Peter had a gun in his waistband. I found that I could touch it, so I shot him in the face.”

                “My God,” he says, staring at me in a mix of pride and shock.

                “Yeah, it freaked Four out a bit too,” I confess. “Anyway, is this normal date conversation? Discussing mortal fears?”

                “Um, no. You’re right, it is pretty dark. We got a little sidetracked, I guess. It’s not what I planned for tonight.”

                “What did you plan?”

                “Well, it started out alright,” he answers. “I planned to kiss you and watch you watch the sunset. Then I planned to pour us both a glass of this,” he says, reaching under the seat for a bottle and two glasses I recognise as wine glasses. My mother had one, like all Abnegation families – it was used to drink the toast on Initiation Day. For all that, though, I’ve never tasted wine. “Do you want one?”

                “What kind is it?” I query.

                “It’s white wine. Red wine is a bit much for beginners, or it can be, and I was fairly sure you wouldn’t have had it before. This is a Chardonnay.” I agree, and he pours me a small amount first. “Just to try,” he explains with a grin. “No point in wasting a perfectly good wine if you don’t end up liking it after all.” I take a small sip and savour it a little.

                “Yes, that’s good,” I say decisively. He smiles, topping up my glass and filling his own.    

                “I half-expected you to tease me for knowing wines.”

                “Why would I tease you?” I ask, blankly.

                “I forget sometimes, where you came from,” he mutters. “It’s considered a bit of an odd thing for a ‘tough guy’ to know.”

                “Well, why?” I persist, frowning now.

                “Just something that’s out of the common. Like hearing a cat bark or something – it doesn’t quite fit the image.”

                “I see,” I answer. “No, I wouldn’t have teased you even if I _had_ known that. There’s always value in exploring new ideas, after all. How else does a person change?”

                “How very Erudite of you,” he says, dryly, but there is a frown forming on his face. He gives me such a queer look, and I immediately curse inwardly. Might as well wear it on a sign around my neck at this rate. “Extremely Erudite, in fact. What did you say your test result was?” There’s no point in lying to him, he could probably very easily look it up.

                “Abnegation,” I answer, then cast around for a subject change, or at least for safer ground than our current topic. “Did you enjoy dinner tonight?” He grins suddenly, that indefinable look that’s almost _worry_ fleeing from his face.

                “You remembered. Of course I did. Did you?”

                “It’s not my favourite meal here, but yes, it was lovely.”

                “What is your favourite food here?”

                “Apart from the muffins?” He laughs then, and I’m relieved that he seems to have forgotten all about me displaying some very Erudite behaviour.

                “Apart from the muffins. You have an insane sweet tooth.”

                “I never had sugar growing up,” I say. “It’s not surprising that I love sweet things now. But apart from the muffins, I really love the chicken and ham pie they do sometimes.”

                “Oh I know the one you mean. That is good.”

                “It’s the sauce that gets me. I could just drink it out a glass. It’s not too rich, but it’s not too creamy either. It’s herby, and sweet but savoury all at the same time.”

                “I’d love it if you asked the kitchen staff for just a glass of pie sauce.”

                “Even a bowl of it,” I say half-dreamily. “With some of that crusty bread they do for supper sometimes, with the salty butter and – ugh. I’m having a moment here.”

                “I can tell,” he says, sounding distinctly amused. “You enjoy trying different foods then?”

                “I didn’t, not at first. I remember my first night in this Faction, and they served hamburgers. I was baffled, I had no idea what it was, it looked very strange and it smelt funny and two of them were stuck together and the others were _freaked._ It led to this great conversation about Abnegation food. It kind of helped them understand me a bit, I think. Then breakfast the next day was bacon and sausage, with eggs and I hadn’t ever eaten either bacon or scrambled eggs. It was a lot to get used to.”

                “Is that what you struggled most with?”

                “No, I struggled most with the dorm. When I got through the first week, I reckoned I’d done enough to prove my courage anyway. Can I ask you a question?”

                “Of course.”

                “What was the strangest thing for you, when you got here?”

                “The noise,” he answers at once. “This Faction is so loud.” I laugh.

                “Is Erudite quiet then?”

                “Not silent. Loud by Abnegation standards maybe, but yes it’s certainly quiet. Erudite have nice calm debates, logical debates. Dauntless just yell until someone listens.”

                “When I was a little girl, my father used to tell me that the Factions were like a family – Candor was the grandfather – blunt and honest. Amity was the grandmother, indulgent and sweet. Erudite was the father, calm and practical. Abnegation was the mother, patient and gentle. And Dauntless was the tantrumming child, loud and unreasonable.” He laughs at that, a sound of true mirth.

                “That’s probably massively oversimplifying it, but the Dauntless one is very accurate.”

                “I was about four, in my defence,” I say, laughing myself. “I was an insatiably curious child. I always had to have the answers. I pestered and pestered until he explained the Factions but of course I couldn’t understand the difference really, so he put it like that.”    

                “It’s sweet.”

                “He’s a good man, my father.”

                “He’s fairly senior, isn’t in?”

                “In Abnegation, you mean? Yes, he works fairly closely with Marcus. I – would it be OK if I asked about your parents?”

                “What do you want to know?”

                “Well, what they were like. If your father made up silly stories to amuse you.”

                “You can ask. They’ve been dead ten years now. I miss them, of course, but I – I suppose in a way I’ve become used to it. They were, as I said, very Erudite – any questions I had they would answer. I remember that my mother used to sing, sometimes, in the kitchen when she made dinner. She enjoyed cookery, and learning new recipes. And while she cooked, she’d sing. My father would smile at her and say she couldn’t sing – and she really couldn’t. But she’d only laugh and say that if he didn’t like it, he didn’t have to listen. He’d help me with my homework with endless, endless patience. Mother didn’t really have that, not as much as he did. She could get frustrated if there were things I was slow to grasp. Him, never. He’d explain things over and over again, until I said I understood and could prove I understood. They were good people. They were good parents. And I believe, despite me changing Factions, that they would have been proud of me.”

                “I don’t think mine are,” I mutter. “Father was furious with Caleb when he went to Erudite, but I don’t think it was because he changed. I think it’s because who he changed to.”

                “Did he come on Visiting Day?”

                “No. Mother did, though. She’s happy for me.”

                “Why wasn’t your father pleased that Caleb went over to Erudite?” Interesting turn of phrase there, I think. _Went over_. Like he was going to the enemy. We have strayed back on to dangerous ground, and I must now tread very carefully.

                “He doesn’t like Erudite. Or, specifically, I don’t think he likes Jeanine. I can’t be sure why, really. I don’t think he approves of how they’re becoming more important, although that makes him sound arrogant, and he isn’t really. He doesn’t like them interfering.”

                “I see. Would you like a top-up, by the way? You’re dry, there,” he says, gesturing at my wine glass. I hadn’t even really noticed I’d finished it.

                “I best not,” I say. “I already feel a bit fuzzy around the head.” I set the glass on the floor very carefully, afraid that I might break it.

                “You’re such a sensible girl. You make me feel reckless in comparison.”

                “You _are_ reckless,” I point out. “You jump on and off trains. We’re all reckless. This whole Faction is reckless.” I shiver suddenly.

                “Cold?” he asks, turning to me at once. We never closed the gap that opened between us during the slight argument.

                “A little.”

                “Want to go in?”

                “Not yet,” I say. Instead, I slide back over the bench, tucking myself into his arms when he opens them. “This is better.”

                “Oh it is that,” he says softly, pulling me close and tucking his hands under my still-unbuttoned jacket, finding my waist through my shirt. And he holds me, and for that shining, beautiful moment with the wine warm in my veins and the smell of his aftershave wrapping me up, I  believe we could just stay in this second of happiness.

 

But I am wrong. I am terribly, terribly wrong.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooohhhh shiiiiit.
> 
> Stuff is starting to go the fuck down. 
> 
> The initiates have one more week of training to go, but what might that week reveal?


	42. The Great Porridge Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris and Eric go public.

_SEPTEMBER 19 TH – 9TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE TWO (MORNING)_

 

I scamper down from Medical as one big grin. My bandages are off, my wounds have healed and I’m clear for exercise as long as I don’t overdo things and avoid anything that would place stress on my chest. No core exercises for me!

 

I practically _swagger_ into the dining hall, and am only taken a little by surprise when I see Molly occupying a lonely table end.

                “Hey,” I say, pulling up beside her. “Why are you over here by yourself? You could have sat with Christina and the guys.” She starts, and flushes slightly.

                “I – I thought you only meant if _you_ were there.”

                “Don’t be ridiculous. Come on, pick up your plate and come over,” I say firmly. “I’m not letting you hang out by yourself. And speaking of – do you mind if I ask where you’ve been? Nobody’s seen you in a few days.” We have to walk slowly, because she’s eating porridge of all things, and apparently she likes it very milky.

                “I’ve been in Medical,” she admits. “I fell off the chair during my Sim and cracked my collarbone.”

                “Oh! Well, you could have sent a message – I was worried.” _Not worried enough to ask Eric though, even though you said you would_ , I think. Guilt floods me. I should have kept more of an eye on her – after all, I said I would. I’ve been too wrapped up in myself. “Then if I had known, I could have come to visit. I know how incredibly dull that place is.”

                “The nurse found me books.”

                “That’s good,” I say, finally reaching the others. “Good morning!” I trill and Al squints up at me.

                “Who are you and what have you done with Tris?” he asks.

                “Can’t I be in a good mood?” I demand, sitting down and gesturing to Molly. “Sit down. Look who I found.”

                “Hey,” Christina says, smiling at her. “We’d started to wonder what had become of you.”

                “I broke my collarbone.”

                “That sucks,” Al says. “Are you feeling better?”

                “Yes thank you,” Molly says. She bends her head to her porridge and I serve myself the same. We had it every day in Abnegation, always plain. Here, I drizzle honey over it and dig in with far more enthusiasm than I ever did at home. I don’t take it as milky as Molly, preferring my food to actually resemble food as opposed to liquid but I enjoy it nonetheless.

                “Heads up, Tris,” Christina says, and her voice is positively gleeful. “It looks like you might have a visitor.”

                “Oh really, who?” I ask, smirking into my porridge.

                “As if you need to _ask_ ,” a voice says. Will obligingly slides to the end of the bench and Eric drops down beside me, taking up a spoon and trying my porridge.

                “Excuse me, but what is your fascination with stealing my food?” I demand, smiling anyway. “First my cookies, now my porridge.”

                “I wanted to verify that it was indeed porridge and not concrete. There’s such a thing as milk, you know.”

                “I have as much milk as I need, thank you very much. If you disapprove of how I take it, make your own. And what can I do for you on this fine morning?”

                “You are in a good mood.”

                “Why do people keep saying that as if it’s a bad thing?” I demand.

                “It’s just nice to see it for once.”

                “Well it’s rapidly vanishing, so make the most of it.” Eric steals a particularly honeyed bite of porridges before he tells me why he’s come to pester me.

                “I had a question,” he says, grinning at me. “Remember last night?”

                “Yes, of course,” I say, darting a glance around the table. Everyone seems astonishingly interested in their breakfasts, but the high colour of Molly and Al at least, confirms that they’re listening for all their worth.

                “Remember how you said that I could choose how we went public?” Christina makes a sound between a gasp and a laugh.

                “Sorry,” she mutters. “Crumb went down the wrong way.” I ignore her, my heart bouncing out a staccato rhythm against my ribs. I wonder if this counts as placing stress on my chest.

                “Yes,” I say, cautious now. “But if your plan is to stand on the tabletop and shout it out, the next thing you’ll shout out is that you’re single again.”

                “I’m a little more subtle than that,” he protests.

                “Yeah, like a bull in a china shop,” I snort, scooping up more porridge.

                “You’re being very spiky today.”

                “You took my porridge.” He takes another spoonful, smiling at me.

                “I will bear in mind that you get very territorial over your food. Kiss me?” Molly’s head comes up so fast I hear something _click_ and Christina chokes on a sip of coffee. I can’t fight the smile that sweeps over my lips, despite the best effort I can make to keep a straight face.

                “Will you leave my porridge alone if I do?” He throws the spoon into the used cutlery jar and turns to me fully, even swinging his leg over the bench so he’s straddling it.

                “I will leave your porridge alone if you do,” he says, his smile broad and heated.

                “Oh well, as you’re twisting my arm,” I say.

 

He leans forward and I lean in, and our lips meet and fireworks start fizzing in my chest and my lips seem to become three times as sensitive as normal. I forget everything – I forget that we’re in a dining hall surrounded by people, I forget that I’m at a table with my friends and Molly, I forget everything other than him.

 

It causes a stir alright. When we get to training, Uriah can’t look at me without laughing and Christina keeps on giggling at random. And I just float through, the feel of that kiss lingering on my lips all day.


	43. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris overhears a very interesting conversation, and both she and Eric find their most carefully-kept secrets in ashes at their feet.

_SEPTEMBER 20 TH – 10TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE TWO (AFTERNOON)_

Christina and I are hiding in a supply closet.

 

It’s a curious way to spend a lunch break, but we weren’t really left with much choice. We’d been in our old training rooms, messing about and having a fierce debate about the pros and cons of sexy underwear on a first date, when we heard voice approaching. One of them was Eric, one was Max, and neither of us knew the third. A woman, anyway, who sounded familiar but unplaceable. Before I could do or say anything, Christina had grabbed my shirt and dragged us both into the supply closet, shutting the door after us as silently as she can.

                “What are you doing?” I hiss at her – or I think at her, anyway. It’s pitch dark in here and I can’t see a thing.

                “Hiding.”

                “Yes, but _why_? We’re allowed to be here. It’s not like we’re out of bounds.”

                “Shh!” The voices are coming closer.

                “Are you certain we’re alone here?” the woman’s voice asks.

                “Naturally,” Max answers. “The initiates are done with physical training.”

                “How are preparations coming?” she demands. “You have the serum ready, of course?”

                “Of course. What will it do, exactly?” Max sounds so – so cold somehow.

                “Oh, it’s a basic control serum. They’ll feel nothing out of the ordinary until we active it. Then they’ll do exactly as the commands embedded in the serum demand. Of course, there are always exceptions –“ she says, letting her voice trail off.

                “The serum won’t work on Divergents.” That’s _Eric_ , I realise, my heart going cold. That’s my Eric saying that, with contempt in his voice. In the darkness, Christina’s hand finds mine.

                “No, so it will be wonderfully easy to identify them. On the one hand, I find it rather annoying that we cannot perfect the serum enough to work on such freaks, but on the other, it’s rather useful.” _Freaks?_

                “When they are revealed, what should we do with them?” Max asks. “Shall we have them arrested? Or simply dispose of them?”

                “Oh, you can do as you wish,” the woman says. “It might be useful to study one or two of them, of course.” Study. They’re talking about me, and about the people like me. If we aren’t shot when this serum is activated, we’ll be captured and studied, like some kind of medical experiment.

                “We’ll endeavour to keep one or two alive then,” Max states. “It will be easy to isolate them, after all – they’ll be the only ones not doing what everyone else is doing.”

                “A rather _clumsy_ summary, but true nonetheless. Eric, what say you?” There’s a small silence. “It’s unlike you to have nothing to say.”

                “My apologies, Jeanine,” he answers. _Jeanine._ The Erudite leader, the woman spreading lies and slander about my old Faction, about my parents; the woman saying Abnegation are no longer fit to be in charge. The woman my brother thinks is the word of God. I want to fly out of this cupboard and throttle her, demand that she tells me what she’s planning, what this serum is. “I am – preoccupied.”

                “Ah yes,” Max says, some spite in his voice. “Your new – distraction.”

                “Tris is not a distraction,” Eric snaps. Christina’s hand tightens on mine.

                “Tris?”

                “The Prior girl,” Max supplies.

                “Ah yes. Poor little girl. Perhaps it might be kinder to keep her away from the action on the day, as it were. Assign her to a guard post.” My anger is growing by the second. This, I realise, is what he told me was a secret he couldn’t reveal on the rooftop that night. Whatever this serum is, whatever this plan is – this is what he said he couldn’t tell me. “Regardless of what you may do with her, Eric, I trust this liaison will not affect your loyalties.” Loyalties? His loyalty is to his Faction, surely. Unless Erudite has its claws into him too deep. Unless he’s still Erudite at heart and he’s just been playing at being Dauntless. Playing at being Eric. Playing at being _my_ Eric, the Eric who steals bites of my breakfast and strokes my hair and told me that our relationship was the happiest time of his life. The relationship that’s all but over now. How can I stand by him, knowing he is standing by her? Knowing that she has one ambition: to overthrow Abnegation.

                “I know where my loyalties lie, Jeanine. You don’t need to worry about _that_.” There was some steel in those words, hints of the man who threw a blade through my ear. The voices are moving away, the sound of a door closing tells us we can leave our cupboard. For all that, neither of us move for some time, before she dares to ease open the door.

                “It’s OK,” she says. “We’re alone – Tris?” she asks, as I push past her and make for the door.

                “I’m going to speak to him. I have to. Don’t tell the others about this, not until I’ve seen Eric. There has to be – he has to – there’s got to be an explanation!”

                “I – I won’t say anything to them. But, Tris – I mean, I don’t know what the hell that was about, but I know it can’t have been any good. Max sounded so cold and so – so excited by the prospect of catching Divergents. I didn’t even think they really existed, I thought it was just a story.”

                “Well, apparently they do. Or people believe they do. I’ll go and speak to Eric, then I’ll come right back to the flat, OK? We’ll work this out.” She nods, and slips out, and I go over to my old locker. Nobody has cleared them out. I take out my weapon, tuck it under my waistband, pull my jumper over to hide it.

 

I let myself into his flat – he showed me the door catch yesterday, said I could come by anytime. I knock first, of course, but when nobody comes and I’m starting to get a little nervous about standing around in the corridor, I release the door catch and go in.

 

It’s some time before the click of the door tells me he’s back, and when he does see me sitting on his sofa, he looks genuinely happy. Of course – he has no idea that I was in the cupboard, listening to each word spilling from his lips. I don’t smile at him, and his own smile falters. Without that distraction, I see for the first time that his eyes are dark with something, that worry is carving faint creases into his brow and around his eyes.

                “Tris?” he asks. “Is something wrong?”

                “Wrong,” I echo. It doesn’t sound like my voice at all. It’s too hard and too flat. “Is something wrong? Yes, I suppose we could say that there was something _wrong_.”              

                “What is it?”

                “It’s funny,” I say, instead of answering him. “While I was waiting for you, I thought of many different ways to talk to you. I thought I could just tell you what I’d done. Or that I could say a certain word to you, and watch your reaction. Or, I could try and make you guess, through a series of increasingly broad hints. But now you’re here, I think this might send my message.” I drop the gun onto the table between us with a resounding thump. “There’s one bullet in that gun,” I say, still in that curiously hard tone. “Just one, because after all it’s all you’ll need. I’ll even be nice about it and let you decide which one of us you’ll shoot.”

                “Tris, what the hell are you saying?” he says, obviously angry. “You’ve no business carrying that around, let alone loaded.”

                “You were Erudite,” I say. “But you left – or did you? Was it maybe some big scheme, to come here and integrate? Do you understand yet?”

                “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

                “And there was me thinking you were _clever_. Very well, then. I don’t have the patience for this, after all. I was in the training rooms at lunchtime. And I heard a certain very interesting conversation. Very fascinating it was, most informative. I learnt quite a lot of new information about things like serums, and Divergents, and Max. But in addition to that, I learnt quite a lot about _where your loyalties lie_.” His face is dark with anger.

                “You were there? You listened? What were you doing there?”

                “I was just there,” I say, calmly. It’s odd how calm I feel. In fact it isn’t even calm, it’s just nothingness. “There’s no rule against it, is there?”

                “So why didn’t you just walk out when we came in?” A good question. I can’t mention Christina.

                “I was in the supply closet, as it happens. I was looking for paper towels. And stop avoiding the subject. What are you doing with Jeanine?”

                “I fail to see how that’s any of your damn business.”

                “Do you? Well, I think it’s my business because you were lying to me all along. You were going along with me, you were telling me that you loved me – when all along you were planning to stick a serum into me and manipulate me into fulfilling some Erudite plot. Does that sound OK to you?”

                “Tris –“

                “On top of that,” I say, speaking louder now, “I have to hear Max refer to me as a _distraction_ , and then I hear Jeanine refer to assigning me to a guard post because I might find something distressing.”

                “Tris!”

                “Do you want to know what I managed to deduce from that?” I’m shouting now, losing all control, anger rushing in to fill the breach where before it felt like there was just a void. “That whatever this control serum will make people do, it will concern Abnegation and by default, my parents! Jeanine has wanted Abnegation out of the way for years and she’s never made a secret of it! So this is how she plans to do it – with brainwashed, serum-controlled Dauntless soldiers. Well fuck that, Eric, fuck that and fuck you!”

                “Listen to me!” he roars. I’m brought up short, panting slightly. He kicks the table away and crosses the gap between us. He seizes my shirt and drags me onto my toes. “Listen to me!”

                “You’ve got nothing to say to me I could possibly want to hear!” I scream back.

                “Well tough shit, because you’re going to hear it anyway! You heard a fucking snapshot of a conversation, you’ve got zero context for anything, but for some ridiculous fucking reason you brought a loaded gun into my home and started ranting.” He releases his hold on me and points to the sofa. “Sit down you stupid girl.”

                “Don’t call me that,” I snarl. “I’m not stupid and I’m not a _child._ I’d prefer to stand.”

                “Fine! You had no right to listen to a private conversation. You had no right to bring that gun here. And you have no right, no right _at all_ to question me about what I might do as a leader of this Faction!”

                “I do when what you’re doing as the leader of this Faction is betraying it! When what you’re planning is to take away everyone’s free will and sell it to Jeanine! I have every right to question you when what you might do might affect my friends!”

                “Your friends will be safe as long as they do as they are told! A trait, I might add, you’d do well to acquire!”

                “Unless they’re Divergent, of course,” I say, coldly.

                “They’re not Divergent,” he snorts. “Will and Christina are Dauntless to the fucking core, and Al isn’t far behind them.”

                “And if they were? If one of them was one of these fabled Divergents, what would you do? Would you be the one pulling the fucking trigger, or the one handing them over to Erudite to be _studied_? Jeanine doesn’t plan to give such people tea and cake, and ask them if they wouldn’t mind telling her one or two things, is she?” I spit. I’m literally shaking with rage.

                “Tris, you’re wilfully trying to misunderstand –“

                “Like fuck. You’re planning to put my friends under some kind of control serum and me too, and I am wilfully misunderstanding? How could you make that sound _any_ better?”

                “I could inject you with fifty control serums and it wouldn’t make a lick of difference!” he bellows.

                “Of course it would!”

                “You said it yourself!” he shouts, slamming his fist against a wall. “Control serums don’t work on Divergents!”

 

Time stands still. My heart reaches a crescendo inside me, and I leap forward, snatching up the gun from where it fell from the table. I cock the weapon, I feel the bullet click into the firing chamber and I remove the safety catch. I slam the gun into his open hand and step in, taking him by the collar and dragging his face to mine.

                “No,” I hiss. “They don’t. So do it.” I pull his hand up – and press my forehead against the barrel of a loaded gun.


	44. Choose A Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris demands Eric choose where he may or may not fight when the battle comes...

_SEPTEMBER 20 TH – 10TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE TWO (AFTERNOON)_

It could be hours, it could be mere minutes. It could have been days as we stood there, with the cool metal of the barrel pressing into my forehead and he doesn’t move or speak. But all the time my heart is beating so calmly in my chest, and that feels wrong. One should not be calm when the man they love is holding a gun to their head and their greatest secret hangs between him and you like a flag of surrender.

                “This is who I am,” I whisper, no thought of shouting now. “This is what I am. So kill me if you must, because I will not be an Erudite experiment. And I would rather die here at your hand than at Max’s hand.” I press forward more, hard enough for the gun to leave a mark on my skin, and wrap my hand around his.

                “You would give me your consent.” His voice is hoarse, but I don’t look up.

                “Not consent, no. I don’t want to die. But you said it – you could inject me with fifty control serums and still I would be Tris, the Divergent Dauntless from Abnegation. So when this plan of Jeanine’s is put into action, I may as well paint the bull’s-eye on my back and stand in front of Max. And if I am going to die for who I am, then I want to choose the manner of my passing.”

                “You would put the gun into my hand.”

                “Yes. Because you would shoot other Divergents, so why not me?”

                “Who says I’m shooting anyone?” he asks. His hand opens under mine, the gun falls and clatters to the floor beneath us. And we are left to stand face to face and his hands are on my face, tilting my head up to look at him and to my horror his eyes are wet and his hands are shaking. I seize his wrists and hang on, because now my heart is lurching and I think I might fall if he doesn’t keep touching me. “You’re such a firebrand,” he murmurs, so gently and so softly. “You can be so stupid. I told Jeanine I knew where my loyalties lie. And I do, because since the day I fell in love with you, they’ve been yours. I cannot back out of this now, because I was in it up to my neck for months before you came along. To back out now would be as good as announcing to Jeanine that my allegiances have changed.”

                “How did you know about me?” I whisper.

                “I guessed it. Your fear sims weren’t right, and I looked at your records after you told me your test result. Abnegation, like you said – but manually entered. The notes said it had to be done because the serum made you sick and the test didn’t reach it’s natural conclusion. But it didn’t make you sick, did it? The test did finish, but it couldn’t give you a result.” I sag against him. His arms go around me and he holds me. “I’ve changed the pattern to the simulations,” he says. “Your next lot will have added fears and I’ll tell you how to beat them. I’ll administer every sim you do from now on, when you get to the final tests nobody will know they weren’t your fears.”

                “And after that? When Jeanine puts her plan into action?”

                “I don’t know. I don’t know.” His arms tighten around me, and I put mine around his waist, clinging to him as he clings to me. “But she isn’t going to touch you, and nor is Max. That’s what I do know. Don’t know much else, but I know that I’ll be a dead man if either of those two have their hands on you.” He puts me slightly away from him, and brushes my hair back from my face. “We need to talk, OK? Properly talk, because you deserve to know everything.”

 

He gets us both a drink before he talks. He sits down in his chair and I drop to the floor in front of him. I rest my head on his knee and his hand touches to my hair.

                “I’ll tell you the story from the beginning. Anything you want to ask me, you ask it and I’ll answer you. If you choose to walk away at the end, that’s your choice and I’ll respect it.”

                “OK.” I could have told him I wouldn’t walk away. But that is going to depend on what he tells me, on what he has to say to me.

                “About six months ago, Erudite made contact with Max. They were scouting opinion about Abnegation. How much do you know?”

                “What’s in the news, mostly. Things my father has let slip. Erudite believe that Abnegation are running things to favour themselves, that they support the Factionless at the expense of the Factions – giving away too much food, keeping things back for themselves.”

                “Yes, that’s what the initial conversation with Max was about. Sometimes he forgets that our office walls are made of plywood and plaster, so I hear things easily. It was gauging his opinion on Abnegation and whether he might support any movement to remove them from power. He agreed. Later, about a month or so down the line, Max was asked to bring me into it also. I, at the time, agreed. It sounded reasonable when Max first told me. He said that all they wanted to do was help Abnegation lead better, by insisting that their measures were passed by a council of the other Factions. That sounded fine to me, so I agreed. Then just before the tests and the Choosing Ceremony, I was told the real truth. That the plan was to inject the Dauntless with a control serum and use them to lead an attack against Abnegation, specifically targeting the leadership.” He pauses, and drinks deep. I don’t move.

                “I was in too deep by then to leave – the idea didn’t sit right with me but even so I didn’t really care. Abnegation meant little to me and I believed that Erudite might do a better job. I registered a private objection with Max, asking if it was necessary to resort to violence. He laughed at me, called me coward and goaded me to anger, and I let him. I let the cheapness of the psychology get to me. I reassured myself with telling myself that it might not come to violence, that it might be worked out if Abnegation cooperated. I knew it was a lie, but I let the lie console me for as long as I could. That shames me now and it always will. It was only when I saw the plans for the simulation that I realised there was not going to be any negotiation, that there wouldn’t be any talking and no amount of co-operation would help.” He goes silent.

                “Tell me,” I say. “Tell me what the sim is.”

                “The Dauntless will go by train from here to Abnegation. They will drag people from their homes. Anyone who tries to run or protest will be shot dead. Marcus Eaton and Andrew Prior are to be arrested and charged with conspiracy to undermine the Faction system – treason. Then when those two are in custody, the remaining members of Abnegation will be executed.” We fall into silence.

                “When does this happen?”

                “On the 27th, the day after your final tests. After the tests are over, everyone will be told to report to the Pit to receive a tracker serum, but in reality they’ll be injected with the control serum. That means that anybody failing those tests will be Factionless by then leaving only the true Dauntless to carry out the plan.”

                “And when it’s over? When Abnegation have been removed? Will they remember?”

                “Yes, they would remember. But they would believe that they acted of their own free will. The serum will make them think Abnegation attacked, and that they were acting in defence of the city.”

                “Just like good little soldiers.”

                “Yes. Just like good little soldiers. And you, you will hate me now.”

                “I do not hate you,” I say, slowly. “I hate what you have done; I hate what you might have done. Andrew Prior is my father. Jeanine will kill him, if this plan goes ahead, probably my mother too. All my friends, the people I knew – they’ll die. And I won’t stand by and let it happen.” I look up at him then. “You should have told me,” I tell him, with some certainty. “We would have had longer to plan, to discuss, to argue. Now there’s no time.”

                “There’s nothing we can do.”

                “So says the Erudite Dauntless,” I snap. “There’s plenty we can do. This Faction is the warrior faction. We’re fighters, we’re the protectors. We’re not invaders or murderers. But most importantly, we are the fighters. You’re telling me Erudite would be able to fight us?”

                “Tris, they don’t need to fight us, just control us, don’t you see?”

                “Yes, _if_ they get the serums into people. So what if we get there first?”

                “How?”

                “They’ll have to be injected, there’s no question of that. Max might not be the sharpest knife in the case, but he will definitely notice if nobody reports for this tracker you’re telling them they’re getting. There’s a counter-serum, isn’t there, a universal one?”

                “Yeah, it counter-acts the original serum, in case people do get sick from them. But I don’t see –“

                “Think, Eric!” I urge. “If we inject the Faction with this control serum, but then immediately after inject them with the counter, they won’t respond when Jeanine activates it. We can arrest Max and march on Erudite instead. We could bring the whole thing down without a single bullet ever being fired.”

                “It won’t work, Tris, not something on that scale. And besides, the second Jeanine activated the serum she’d know it wasn’t working –“

                “So what if she does? She can’t fight and neither can her Faction. We would already have advantages without needing the element of surprise.”

                “And what about Max? Do you think he’ll come quietly?”

                “I won’t be offering him a choice,” I say, coldly.                

                “It’s too dangerous –“

                “If you’re going to be a coward about it, I’ll do it myself. I will not stand by and let my family die when I could have tried to prevent it. I will not stand by and watch Max brainwash my friends into killers. I will not stand by and watch you let it happen because you were afraid to do the right thing. You can choose a side, Eric. You can stand with Max and do what you have to do to ease your conscience when it’s done and I am dead. Or you can stand by me and we can try and stop them. If we fail, then we fail – but we’ll go down having thrown a serious spanner in Jeanine’s plans and having saved lives. I will do this, with or without you – but without you, I am more likely to fail and more likely to end up dead. And I would prefer that, now I’ve got you, to keep you.”

                “Tris –“

                “I love you,” I say, and he jolts, staring at me. “I think I have for a while, except I didn’t know what it was. But I know now. So I would prefer to fight beside you instead of against you, but if that is what it takes I _will_ walk away from you. It would be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but I will do it. I will walk away and I won’t look back. So choose a side. Choose a side and decide once and for all where your loyalties lie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is late, and yes it's only one chapter, for which I apologise.
> 
> Baby Caenea was not well yesterday, the poor mite, so writing naturally fell by the wayside. 
> 
> I'm in hopes that I will get another chapter out later in the day, but there's no promises on that.


	45. Early Snows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris feels the bite of winter coming closer, and Eric makes his vows to her.

_SEPTEMBER 24 TH – 14TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE TWO (NIGHT)_

 

It’s cold tonight, the chill in the air betraying that winter is well on the way. It’ll be early this year, night snows might start as early as October. There’s a touch of the frost in the air, something biting and cold. In past years, cold September’s meant additional work for us in Abnegation, making sure the Factionless were warm and fed was always harder when the snow lay inches thick over the city and not even the heavy-duty, snow-chained food trucks from Amity could get through without paths being dug out for them. It foretold a bad winter, one where even those in Factions might be found frozen one morning. For all that, I liked the colder nights, the darkness that was almost magical in its length. True Abnegations hated it, because of what it meant – but I always saw the beauty in the snow, the way the frost made the grass sparkle and the swamp freeze, how we’d sometimes see the other Factions skating there. There was a magic to winter when I was a child, a cool kiss in the breeze that put pink in people’s cheeks and a sparkle in their eyes as they hurried around their business. I liked to see Amity in their brightly-coloured knitted hats and mittens, rushing round and calling out to each other with laughter in their voices. But all of that seems like a childish dream now, because now the coming of the snows means only that it might snow on my gravestone.

 

For four days, Eric has coached me to pass the simulations with the added fears – spiders, confined spaces and deep water. It still only gives me six fears, but six is better than three. He hopes it will be enough, but sometimes I catch Max looking at me and I fear he knows not only what I am, but what Eric and I are doing. Not being able to show it, having to act as if nothing is wrong, as if I never heard him condemn himself a thousand times over and plot to murder my father. Faction before blood my ass. Love will always come first, whether it’s by blood or by choice – no Faction will ever triumph over that.

 

I lean on the bar around the edge of the roof and think about the night I told Eric I loved him, told him to choose his side and decide whether or not he plans to fight.

 

_“I’ll fight with you, because I’m not fighting for people who tell me you’re a freak of nature. I don’t want to live in a place that tells me you’re dangerous and that you’re a threat to life. I’m standing with you, because if I’m going down, at least this way it’ll be for good reasons, and it’ll be with you.”_

The plan is simple enough, but we both know that it’s fragile. We didn’t have enough time, we didn’t have enough equipment, we didn’t have enough people we could trust. I rub my eyes, feel them gritty and dry under my hands. I’m exhausted. So much could go wrong, but still everyone we approached agreed to help us. Christina, Will, Al, Four, Marlene, Lynn, Uriah – all of them said they’d risk everything on a crazy plan made by idealistic idiots. We said nothing to Molly. Eric doesn’t think she’ll pass the final tests and there’s no point briefing someone who won’t be able to help.

 

The stars are obscured tonight. Somewhere, out beyond the fence, it’s raining. In the silence of the night, I fancy I can hear it if I listen closely enough, a hiss of rain on the ground. Far away on the horizon, lightening flashes, the low roar of the thunder sounding muted, as if it’s coming through glass. The storm will reach us by morning and it will be violent. Somehow, that seems fitting. I like the idea of confronting my fears – and a few of Eric’s – to the backdrop of some thunder. The door opens behind me, and I turn. I expect Eric, but it’s Al.

                “Hey,” he says. “Can I join you?”

                “Yeah. Just watching that,” I say, gesturing at the distant lightening.

                “Think that’ll hit us?”

                “Probably. I guess by morning, it’ll be raining.”

                “Wonder what it’s hitting.”

                “Open ground. Ruins maybe. They show us maps, right? In Geography and History at school, they showed us the maps of what all this used to look like.”

                “Yeah. The swamp used to be some lake, right? And the city was surrounded by other cities and now it’s all just grass.” We stay leaning on the metal bar and watching the horizon. “What do you think is out there?”  he asks quietly.

                “There’s nothing out there. Just wreck and ruin.”

                “I don’t believe that,” he says.

                “What?”

                “Think about it. If it’s true, and we really are alone here, why did we survive? Why just this city? I don’t buy that, there’s gotta be more than just this city.”

                “But if _that’s_ true, why haven’t we ever seen anyone?”

                “Maybe they’re all too far away. But there’s more than just this. Maybe one day we’ll see it.”

                “Yeah, maybe,” I say. I don’t know that I buy that. I think he’s trying to find things that aren’t there, but if that makes him happy, who cares? The door opens again, and this time it is Eric. Al smiles at me.

                “You’ll see,” he says, before he goes. “Maybe one day we’ll go out there and see for ourselves.”

                “Send me a card, huh?” I say and he laughs.

                “Oh I will do.” He goes back down the stairs, and Eric moves up behind me, wrapping me up in his arms and holding me tight.

                “What was that about?” he asks, kissing my hair.

                “Just talk,” I say. “About what might be out there.” I nod towards the lightning. The thunder is louder now, the storm is travelling fast.

                “Animals, maybe, wild ones. Feral foxes, bears even.”

                “Oh, we’d definitely have seen bears,” I answer and he gives an amused snort.

                “Maybe not the bears then. But Amity occasionally report the foxes. We go out and set traps for them, stop them eating all the food. We got called to a wild dog once.”

                “A dog?”

                “Yeah, this vicious little thing. Rabid, maybe, who knows? We shot it, anyway.”

                “Wonder where he came from?”

                “The swamp, probably. He was starving too, from the look of him. Broke my heart a bit to kill him, but we couldn’t let him keep rampaging around the farms. He was scaring the fuck out the Amity guys.” His arms tighten a little. “You OK?”

                “Not really,” I answer. “Tomorrow is – not something I really want to do, you know? Sometimes I catch Max looking at me and I think he might know something.”

                “He doesn’t. If he knew something we’d be in a cell right now, or on our way to Erudite. He just thinks you’re weird.”

                “Oh well, he can join the club then.”

                “It’s going to be OK, Tris,” he says. “It’s going to work out, we’ll get through this. You aren’t going to be arrested and you’re going to be safe. We’re going to have each other’s back and we’re both going to get through it.”

                “I wish I could believe that.”

                “I’m not sure I do myself. But I do know that I’m not going to leave your side, and you are not to leave mine, no matter what happens on the 26th. Anyone who tries to get you away from me is not someone you can trust.”

                “Eric, I don’t want to be alone tonight,” I say, abruptly.

                “You share a room with four people.”

                “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Of course, if you’d rather I crawled into Al’s bed again –“

                “Again, huh?” he says, a teasing tone in his voice.

                “Not like that. I swear, everyone I know has such filthy minds.”

                “The only bed you get to crawl into is mine. Or Christina’s, if I’m not immediately available.”

                “Pretty sure she’ll be crawling into Will’s bed.”

                “Come on,” he says. He drops his hold on me, takes my hand instead.

 

He takes me back to his flat, pulling me into his bedroom. We stay on our own sides of his bed, undressing as far as a t-shirt and underwear for me, and down to his boxers for him. We slide in, and he pulls me close, his kisses warm on my lips, his hands warm on my skin. He doesn’t try and take it further, he doesn’t try to touch me anywhere but hips and waist and neck. He pulls me close but doesn’t trap me there. I’m grateful for it.

 

There is a part of me that wants him to go further, that wants him to pull me in and press atop me, but I know that sleeping with him because of some desperate need for touch isn’t the right reason for a first time. I know that come morning, I’d regret it and maybe he knows that. For all that, we sleep wrapped together, his face buried in my hair and his arm tight around my waist, my hips cradled in his.

 

I feel as if I can face it now, face whatever tomorrow and the next day might bring. He calms me, somehow, I find a centre with him and find roots. Whether or not this hare-brained, half-cocked plan of ours might do, at least we’ll find out together.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an announcement to make!!
> 
> There are only five (maybe six) more chapters to go!
> 
> Once this story is done, I'll be taking a little break of a week, to work on the sequel and get a bit ahead on that, whereupon it will be published :)


	46. A Brother's Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris learns something disturbing about her brother, and the core group of conspirators discuss the finer points of their plan.

_SEPTEMBER 25 TH – 15TH DAY OF TRAINING – STAGE TWO (DAY)_

The storm breaks over the city as we’re completing my final practise sim. Eric gives me an approving nod.

                “You’ll do. You’ll pass. That’s the important thing, anyway. Will you be with the others today?”

                “Yeah. We were going to have a picnic by the tracks, but that’s out now. Sounds like that storm is settling in to stay. I think we might just get the blankets off our bed and have it in the flat instead.”

                “OK. Stay together, as much as you can. Max doesn’t know anything but it might be best if he doesn’t get the chance to get at anyone.”

                “I know.”

                “I can’t see you today.”

                “I know, Eric.”

                “I have to be at the meeting tonight, for the last stages, I –“

                “Eric,” I say, catching at his wrist as he gestures wildly. “I know. It’s OK. This will be over soon. The more you know, the better we can make this work. Have you mixed the serums?”

                “Easiest part of the whole thing. Four helped me. We drained 90% out of each vial and replaced it with the counter serum. They look the same, they’ll still test as the right serum – if anyone checks – and it’ll be enough to stop them activating.”

                “Then we’ve both done as much as we can. Uriah got me in touch with his brother Zeke, and I’ve spoken to Tori and Bud and Ken in the tattoo shop. They’re all behind us.”

                “You trust them?”

                “Yes, I do. Bud, Zeke and Tori are all going to tell their own friends. I told them to be careful. But when it all goes down, it means that there’s going to be thirty people on side, knowing what’s happening, instead of just the original nine. That’ll play in our favour.” He nods.

                “Good. Chaos will reign a lot, but if there’s thirty people ready to jump on trains, armed and ready to go, we’ll be able to get to Erudite and take control of the building.” He’s organising the tray of serums and needles carefully.

                “You’re up to something,” I say.

                “I asked after your brother. I wanted to know how close to the action he was.”

                “You what? Might as well have said I was fully aware of the plan –“

                “No, no. I asked who I could expect to be working with from Erudite, when we finish at Abnegation, or when we deliver Divergents. He’s – well Tris, he’s up to his goddamn neck in this. He’s on Jeanine’s right hand, he’s named as our contact at Erudite for Divergent matters.” I stare at him.

                “No, you’re wrong. Caleb wouldn’t – this is his _family_.”

                “I’m sorry Tris. When I saw his name written down, I questioned the surname, asking if he was related to Andrew Prior. Max told me he was, literally said it was your older brother. He was involved in this from the start.” I’m sideswiped by the news, but I can’t argue it – the timelines match up to when Caleb started being weird, before he stopped talking to us altogether.

                “When this is over, Eric, I want Jeanine,” I say, flatly. “There’s no price she can pay for this.”

                “She’ll be tried,” he answers, pressing a kiss to my hair. “As satisfying as it would be to see you shoot her, she’ll be tried. You can’t pursue a personal vendetta. Save your anger for your brother.”

 

I go back to the flat, and the others come in one by one. Christina is the last, and we have our picnic as I suggested it – on blankets in the living room, eating sandwiches and muffins that we managed to coax out of the kitchen staff. Despite the conversation being normal – as Molly has joined us – there’s an undercurrent of tension in the air, which only increases when Molly thanks us but excuses herself. I think she knows too, that after tomorrow she’ll be Factionless. With her gone, we could discuss the plan, elaborate on it, but we don’t. Almost desperately, we keep talking about food, the final tests, books – anything but what is coming. The rain sounds like gunfire on the skylight above us. Normally, I like to hear the noise it makes, to think about how green the city might look when it’s done with. Today, it makes me think of the bullets that might have been fired at Abnegation.

 

A knock at the door startles us all, and Christina isn’t the only one who reaches for the gun I never returned to the locker. We’ve hidden it behind the sofa cushions. I shake my head even as I call out.

                “Who is it?”

                “Me,” Uriah shouts back.

                “It’s open,” I answer, and he comes in with Marlene. They’re holding hands. On any other day, this might have drawn hoots and laughter, but not now.

                “Can we join you?” he asks, slamming the door behind them both. “We’ve both been thinking so much we think we might be going bonkers.”

                “Sure,” I say, gesturing at the floor. “There’s some food left.”

                “Oh no, we ate in the dining hall,” Marlene says, even as Uriah takes a sandwich. That manages to raise some smiles.

                “It’d just be rude not to,” he says with his mouth full. “Is everything ready?” I sigh. There’s no point trying to avoid it any longer. We’re obviously all thinking about it.

                “Yes. Eric and Four have dealt with the serums and I’ve spoken to as many people as I can. We should have thirty people who know the real plan when everything goes down. We’ll meet by the tracks for the six o’clock train, as Jeanine is going to activate – or try to activate – her serum at six-thirty. We have to be at Erudite when she realises it hasn’t worked, because otherwise we’ll give Max too long to start investigating.”

                “Who’s going to deal with him?”

                “Four’s staying back,” I say, quietly. “He’ll arrest Max as soon as he works out that something’s wrong.”

                “What if something goes wrong?”

                “If something goes wrong, scatter. Get out as quickly as you can, hide yourselves. If something has gone wrong, it means someone talked and they’ll have been ready for us, so you won’t be able to come back here – Jeanine will crack down too fast. Make contact with the Factionless if you can – I’ve told you all where to find them. Explain to any of them what happened, they’ll help you.”

                “Did you manage to contact them?” Marlene asks.

                “The less you know about all that, the better really,” I say slowly. “If anyone _is_ caught, you can say you didn’t know anything.”

                “Think she’ll buy that?”

                “She will if you genuinely don’t know. She can inject you with truth serum and if you don’t know you can’t tell her. At least that way she’ll know Eric and I were the ones at the bottom of it. I want to keep the Factionless out of this, if I can. They know how to hide; anyway, she won’t find them even if she searches for the next ten years.” I look round at them. “I know this is risky,” I say, bluntly. “We haven’t had enough time to make this watertight. If you choose not to take the risk, you don’t have to and I won’t think any less of anyone for not doing it. You don’t even have to tell me – I’ll know if you just don’t come to the train in the morning.” None of them speak, and when Uriah does, it’s not relevant to coming along on this crazy plan.

                “Are there any changes, for when we get to Erudite?”

                “No. We’ll jump the train a quarter of a mile away, and we’ll creep up on them. Erudite leadership are on the fifth floor of their tower – and fortunately, they aren’t in the habit of setting people on guard. We go in and we take them into our custody. Try not to kill anyone. And I would appreciate it if I was the one to take Caleb into custody.”

                “Who’s Caleb?” Christina asks blankly.

                “My older brother. He did his Choosing Ceremony last year and went to Erudite. Eric’s just told me he’s involved, so he’ll almost certainly be in the room with Jeanine. You’ll know him easily enough – we’re so alike people would take us for twins sometimes. Leave him to me, if such a thing is possible.”

                “Alright. Guess he’ll have a lot of explaining to do, huh?”

                “It’s not me he’ll have to explain himself too. It’s my father.”

 

There aren’t words to describe how furious I am with this betrayal. And while he doesn’t know that his great new future will see his sister become some sideshow attraction, he knows what the plan is for our father and most likely his mother too. Does he think that the cost is worth the result? Does he hate Abnegation so damn much that he’s willing to sacrifice his parents to get rid of them? Or is it that he just believes that Erudite will do the better job, that they’ll manage things better, and that this just happens to be the price of that?

 

I just don’t understand why he’d do this, or why he’d ever think that the life of his parents was an acceptable price to pay. There’s a small, hopeful part of my heart that wants us to find out that Jeanine has shot him full of serum and has been brainwashing him all year – but the practical side of me seems to know that that isn’t true. Someone she was controlling via serum would not be at her direct side, actively involved.

 

I wonder if he’ll have time to guess that I’ll be the one coming for him, when he and Jeanine realise that their plan has failed. I hope that he does. I hope he knows that it was his sister who schemed against him and brought it down.

 

I hope he knows that I did it for love.

 

 


	47. Deep Dark Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The testings day splits the Faction, and Will and Christina finally get around to doing something about their mutual attraction...

_SEPTEMBER 26 TH – 16TH DAY OF TRAINING – FINAL TESTS (DAY)_

We’re called up one by one for the final tests and we go in alphabetical order by first name. This leaves me, Uriah and Will as the last three, sitting in a small holding room and getting increasingly anxious. Al and Christina were the first in and nobody comes back when they’re done. All we get is the door being opened and names being called every half an hour. While there were more of us, chit chat filled the spaces, but the three of us have nothing left to say now, after hours and hours of waiting. When I needed the toilet I had to bang on the door for five minutes and I was escorted there and back.

                “Tris Prior!” the voice calls suddenly, and I jump. My stomach is a twisted knot of nerves and fear, and it isn’t because of the fear sims. I’m so tense about tonight and tomorrow, I’m half convinced it’s someone coming to arrest me and hand me over to Jeanine. Uriah has to nudge me.

                “Go, Tris,” he mutters. “And uh – if you see Marlene, tell her I’ll be done soon, right?”

                “Tell Christina I hope it went OK!” Will calls as the door bangs behind me. The guard leads me down a short corridor and grins at me in a comradely way.

                “Don’t look so scared, kid,” he says. “Not a good idea to go into it shitting yourself.”

                “Thanks,” I say, mustering a smile from somewhere. “Do I just go in?”

                “Yep, they’ll be waiting for you.”

 

They are too – there’s quite a few people here. Eric, of course, Four, Lauren, Max, and a few other’s I don’t recognise but figure must be more senior Faction members. The chair from the sim room – or at least an identical one – is in the middle of the floor, surrounded by screens and with a jolt, I realise everyone will be able to see my fears. Eric failed to mention that one. I’m quite surprised to see that it’s Tori waiting to administer the serum though. I boost myself up into the chair and manage to smile at her.

                “Just like old times, huh?” I say, and she snorts.

                “Just to make you aware, the screens will show your fears and your actions, OK?”

                “Yeah.”

                “Great. Ready?”

                “Ready,” I say, managing a much fainter smile this time. There’s the usual slight pinch as the needle goes in and then the simulation starts.

 

The Chasm. Dodge him for a bit first, don’t act too soon. Go into the attack, get the gun. Shot fired.

 

The spiders – in my ears, my nose, my mouth. Close eyes, don’t scream or pant. Brush them off, try and keep calm.

 

The dark. Find the light switch. Don’t blunder around, place hand flat on wall at face height, trail it round the walls.

 

Confined spaces. Metal box, lid sealed. Find a way to open the lid. There should be a screwdriver somewhere, yes, there, by my foot. Kick it up towards my hands.

 

It’s all over within half an hour. People clap, nodding, writing notes. Four approaches me as Tori is helping me sit up and get my bearings again.

                “Congratulations, initiate,” he says, smiling slightly. “Perfect scores. Welcome to Dauntless.”

                “I passed?” I ask.

                “You passed.”

                “Can I ask about the others?” He shakes his head.

                “Sorry. But I wouldn’t start earmarking anyone’s drawers.” I grin at him, knowing that means that Al and Christina at least have passed and are going to be staying. Tori gives me a clap on the back and smiles too.

                “You can get up now, slowly. It’s normal to have a bit of a headrush afterwards. Feeling OK?”

                “I’m fine. What do I do now?”

                “Why don’t you go through that door there and see?” he says, pointing at the opposite end of the room from where I came in. I glance back to see him sending the guard through the other door. Uriah will be next, then Will. I have to hope they’re OK.

 

I swing open the door and walk headlong into Eric’s arms. He kisses me, hard and quick.

                “Well done,” he says quietly. “Perfect.” I pull back from him and look at his face.

                “I did OK?” I ask, and he nods. I know he understood my real question – did I do enough?

                “You did great. I have to get back in, I said I just needed the bathroom.”

                “Has anyone not passed?” I demand.

                “Drew, Molly and Mark. Go on back to your flat, go on,” he urges, giving me a little push. “I’ll come later.” I smile at him, and vanish down the corridor. Molly wasn’t a surprise. She had struggled since the very beginning of stage two, she’d taken it hard. I find that I’m sad that I didn’t get to say a decent goodbye.

 

When I get back to the flat, Christina and Al spring up at once.

                “Did you pass?” Christina demands.       

                “Flying colours. You guys too?”

                “Yeah, we’re good. How long do you think Will’s going to take?”

                “Another hour maybe. They called Uriah in as I was coming out. Eric told me Molly, Drew and Mark didn’t make it.”

                “We saw Molly,” Christina says. “We said goodbye. She said we should tell you she was sorry again and that she was grateful you were kind.”

                “God, what a fucking mess this has all been,” I say, sinking into an armchair. “I’m so tired.”

                “Is Eric going to come by later?” Al asks.

                “He said he was.”

                “What’s going to happen? With the serums?”

                “We’ll be called to the Pit sometime tonight. We go together, OK? We go as a group and we stay a group. Tomorrow morning we wake up early. Tori and Bud are going to make sure the guns are waiting for us and Four will deal with Max.”

                “And if it fails?”

                “If something goes wrong, then run. Stay together if you can but run.”

 

It’s not a great plan. In fact, it’s the worst plan ever – but what else can I say? If it goes wrong, and we are caught, it meant that they knew all along. If that’s the case, we’ll be lucky to get away alive, never mind together.

 

At the end of an hour, we hear feet running towards our door, and Will bursts through.

                “Did you pass?” Christina demands, shooting to her feet. He grins widely.

                “Perfect score,” he announces, and she beams. She launches herself into his arms and I’m not really very sure what happens then. Maybe she goes to kiss his cheek, and maybe he turns his head to kiss hers but it’s their lips that meet in the middle. They jump apart, blushing like fools and I suddenly just cannot bear it for another second.

                “Will you two just fucking kiss?” I shout. “The tension is killing me!”

                “Oh, well, I don’t –“

                “I’m not sure –“

                “We couldn’t –“

                “You clearly both want to,” Al says, smirking. “And I’m with Tris on this one – it’s getting painful to watch.”

                “Oh, fuck it,” Will says. He grabs Christina and kisses her, to which she throws her arms around his neck and kisses him right back.

                “What did you do that for?” she asks when he lets her go.

                “Because we’re about to go off on some suicide mission to take Erudite out. We might not manage it, and fuck knows where we’ll all be this time tomorrow. So if it does blow up in our faces, at least I got to do that once.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry.
> 
> Let's just say that yesterday was a goddamned nightmare.
> 
> Three chapters to go!


	48. Welcome to the Rebellion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan to save Abnegation is put into motion.

_SEPTEMBER 26 th/27th_

_“All Dauntless are to report to the Pit. All Dauntless are to report to the Pit. All initiates must report to their instructors on arrival. All Dauntless are to report to the Pit.”_

The voice is the cool automated voice of the train announcements. That somehow makes it worse, that they didn’t care enough about their fucked up plan to record an actual person, they just tapped some commands into a computer and thought that that would do.

 

We report to Four and he is the one who injects us. His face is grim, but I daren’t ask if anything’s gone wrong – there are far too many people around and an overheard word could reach ears I’d rather remain deaf to our plans. Eric is standing on one of the upper levels, leaning over, Max by his side. His face is carefully blank but Max is smirking as he watches the proceedings. How much simpler would it make things if Eric just threw him over the balcony now? Or no, perhaps that isn’t the best idea. Might be a bit tricky if Jeanine wants to contact him overnight and someone has to explain that he’s being scraped off the bottom of the Pit.

 

Four dismisses us after the injection is over, and won’t let us linger in the Pit. He’s so obviously worried, and his worry infects me, which makes me snappy and irritable. The others have noticed too, and despite their obvious happiness over their newly-declared feelings, even Will and Christina are withdrawn. Al insists we go to dinner and points out that us going into tomorrow hungry won’t help. He forces me to eat rather than pick at my food and Eric joins the attack when he comes over to slide his arm around my waist and kiss my hair.

                “You have to eat, Tris,” he says firmly. “Otherwise you’ll crash completely and that will most definitely get us caught.” I eat slowly, but I eat. Eric forces me to eat dessert as well and while I grumble about it, I don’t really argue.

                “When are you coming?” I ask him, and he gives me a squeeze.

                “I have to go and have a last meeting with Max, to go over the details, but I’ll be there tonight, OK?”

                “Something’s gone wrong,” I say, bluntly. “Four looked so worried –“

                “Tris, as far as I know everything’s fine. Of course he’s worried. Now come on – anyone looking at your face is going to know there’s something up. Try and smile.” I glare at him instead and he laughs a bit at that.

                “Well, I suppose on you that’s just as normal.” I take a swipe at him but he moves away too quickly. He smiles at me from a safe distance. “I’ll see you later.”

                “Don’t bother!” I call after him, pulling a face at him so he knows I’m just kidding. I have to hope that that was normal enough to distract attention.

 

After dinner is over, we retreat back to our flat, and Al exhibits tomorrow’s breakfast – several rolls, some fruit and a couple of muffins.

                “When did you get all that?” Christina demands.

                “While you and Will were making eyes at each other and Tris was scowling at her dinner like it had just spat on her mother. We’ll have to share the muffins but this will give us a roll each, one piece of fruit each, which is a decent breakfast in my book. Then there’s enough to spare for two of us to have an extra roll and the other two to have extra fruit.”

                “At least someone planned ahead,” I say, dropping my head back. “I’m so sorry, I should have thought about breakfast instead of arguing with Eric –“

                “So it’s true what they say – you can take the girl out of Abnegation but you can’t take the Abnegation out of the girl,” Christina teases. “Tris, you don’t have to think about everyone else all of the time.”

                “Sorry,” I mutter, picking at a hangnail.

                “And stop apologising for everything,” Will says. “Not everything is your fault. Tris, you’re worried, we get that, but you said it yourself – none of us have to do this with you. We could have all said thanks for the information, good luck with taking down Erudite and sat back and let you deal with it all. But we didn’t, did we? We agreed to fight beside you because we think it’s for the good and we hate what they were going to make us do. So quit feeling all guilty and winding yourself up by thinking you’re dragging us all to our doom.”

                “He’s got a point,” Al adds, smiling at me. “You and Eric and Four were behind this, you’ve done the hard bit and all I’ve done is picked up breakfast. You can’t remember everything and when you don’t, we’re here to pick up that slack. That is what friends are for.”

 

Eric appears at about nine, and comes straight to me, pulling me onto his lap and burying his face into my hair. Christina and I exchange glances.

                “Has something happened?” I ask, tentatively.

                “No. I don’t think so. Not sure.”

                “Eric,” I say, warningly.

                “Max was – a little strange. He kept referring to you four and saying that we should keep an eye on you all.”

                “Why?”

                “I don’t know,” he says, emerging from my hair. “You’re – interesting, shall we say? He might think that one of you is Divergent. But your friendship group is – unusual for Dauntless. Normally you have one, maximum two close friends. For a group of four to be this close-knit and to have done nothing to undercut each other during the whole training situation isn’t normal. He thinks it’s because one of you might be Divergent, so the – the vibe of you all might be tempered by someone who isn’t quite full Dauntless, if that makes sense.” My blood runs cold. “As you won’t be under the serum’s influence, it doesn’t matter – but it is a concern that he’s noticing that something’s off. He’s not clever enough to put it together himself, so we just have to hope he doesn’t talk to Jeanine about it before tomorrow, because she will put it together.”

                “The plan you mean,” I say, pointedly.

                “Yes, yes the plan. What time is it?”

                “Late,” Al says. “We should go to bed, really. It’s an early start tomorrow.”

                “You guys mind if I stay?” Eric asks.

                “You’d be most welcome. Will you want some pillows and a blanket for the sofa or will Tris’ bed do?” Christina asks innocently.

                “If Tris doesn’t mind squashing in with me, I’ll go with her bed.”

                “Only if you’ll be a good boy,” I answer, getting off his lap.

 

We share the bed, and simply because of the size of it, we have to sleep wrapped in each other’s arms. Once, I shared Al’s bed like this, tucked together for security and comfort – the night before rankings day. Was I really so worried about being Factionless? It seems so silly now.

 

I don’t know if the other’s sleep. I drift in and out and every time I wake, I can hear one or other of them tossing and turning. I think halfway through the night, Christina gets up and creeps into Will’s bed, and near four, I hear Al get up to use the toilet.

 

By five, nobody is even pretending to sleep any more. We’re up and gathered in the living room, eating breakfast when there’s a low knock. Eric looks grim, and doesn’t question it when Will retrieves the gun from behind the sofa.

                “Who is it?” I ask, because if it is Max I’d rather have the warning.

                “Four,” comes the low answer. I open the door at once, and he slips inside absolutely silently. “I figured you’d all be up. Eric, figured you’d be here too.” He grins at me. “Guess he slept with you. Tell me, does he still talk in his sleep?” It’s so unexpected that it makes me laugh – we’ve been sat around here absolutely shitting ourselves and Four is acting as if the whole thing is a simple outdoor training exercise.

                “Not that I’ve noticed,” I say. “What does he say?”

                “Well, you should understand that this was all back when we were just initiates, so it’s been a while, but one particular highlight I seem to recall was ‘please don’t kill the canary’. Oh, and there was an excellent one – now what was it, Eric? – ah yes: ‘but I don’t want to go to bed!’” Eric glares.

                “Four, I swear to God, I would strangle you if we didn’t have shit to do.”

                “Ah, but we do, meaning that I am safe enough for now. Besides which, it’s cleared up some of the tension in here, which can only be to the good. Now, I’m going to see you all onto that train before I go to Max. Have you all had breakfast?”

                “Yes _mother_ ,” Eric says, and Will chokes on his last bite of roll. While Christina bangs him on the back, Four just smirks at Eric.

                “If I didn’t mother you, as you put it, you’d be dead by now. You’d better go out in pairs or singles. If you all start swanning off at once, you’ll raise a lot of suspicion. Try and avoid the guards if you can. Tris, you’d better go first –“

                “No,” Eric interrupts, all trace of humour gone. “She stays with me, where I can see her, at all times.” I roll my eyes.

                “Fine,” Four says. “Then Will, you’d better go – alone, I think. If you do run into a guard, tell them you’re going for an early run.” Will nods. He kisses Christina and slips out. Four times it, then exactly three minutes later, he turns to Al and Christina. “You two next. If you meet any guards, tell them you couldn’t sleep and decided to get an early sparring session in.” When they’ve gone, Four and Eric face each other.

                “Don’t kill him unless you have to,” Eric tells him bluntly. “He’ll be needed to testify if this works.”

                “I’ll do my best,” Four says, dryly. “But I have my own bones to pick with this plan he wanted to put into action.”

                “Two Divergent Stiffs,” Eric says, amused. Four gapes at me.

                “Really? You too?” I shrug. “Huh. How’d you figure me out?” he asks of Eric.

                “Tris’ fear sims. No way did you both have so few fears and it be a coincidence. So I popped into your records and what do you know? Test results entered manually.”

                “Goddamn. Well, whatever. You two had better get moving. I’m sure you can pretend you’re out for a romantic early morning stroll if you see anyone.” I snort.

                “Four, may I introduce Eric to you?”       

                “Look here, I can be romantic –“

                “Stealing my food does not count,” I tell him. Four rolls his eyes.

                “Yes, that’s perfect,” he says. “Now go.”

 

We’re the last two to arrive at the tracks and the others are a tense, silent group. We can already hear the approaching train, even as Tori hands us our weapons. Will opens his mouth to speak, but Eric glares at him so fiercely that he obviously thinks better of it. The train rounds the corner, and the eleven of us – Uriah, Tori, Bud, Zeke, Marlene, Lynn, Christina, Will, Al, Eric and I – start running. Getting on is no challenge, and we gather for one last briefing.

                “Tris and I have picked our jump point. It’s just outside Erudite territory, in the trees near their tower. Jump, and then gather on us. We run from there. Shoot to injure if you must shoot at all, but preferably this will be bloodless. Erudite aren’t fighters and besides we don’t want the grunts. Ideally we will make it to the fifth floor without issue, where we expect to find Jeanine and her immediate circle. They are our targets. Do not kill any of them unless they are going to kill you.”

                “And if you see a man who looks exactly like me, remember that he’s mine,” I say. “He’s got a lot of explaining to do, and I want him to do it to me, seeing as how his precious Erudite planned to indict his own father for treason.”

                “What she said,” Eric says, shaking his head at me as I walk over to the door to keep an eye on our route. “Will, Christina – you peel off and clear the first floor. Tori, Bud, Zeke, you take the second. Uriah, Marlene, you’ll take the third; Lynn and Al, you take the fourth. As soon as you have confirmed that there is no sign of Jeanine of those floors, you make your way to the fifth. Tris and I will go straight up there and observe as best as we can.” He glances round. “And remember – if this does go south, get out. Do what you have to, but get out. Do not hang around waiting for friends, just go. Do not attempt to return to Dauntless. Make your way to either the old water tower by the Ferris wheel or to the old Hancock building. Factionless people will be waiting until nightfall. Tell them my name, or Tris’ – her surname is Prior, if you don’t already know – and go with them. They’ve agreed to hide us. They’ll get you back into the group, OK?” People nod.

                “Jump is coming up,” I say quietly.  

                “Get ready, folks,” Eric says. “Jump after us. Welcome to the rebellion.”

                          

 


	49. The Battle of Erudite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris and Eric realise their plan has gone awry and the failure has deadly consequences.

_SEPTEMBER 27 TH_

 

I jump first, he follows, then the others. We run through the trees even as the sun starts to rise, blood-red against the milk-pale blue of the early sky. Erudite looms over us, cold and white, lights still in several windows. We pause for some time at the edge of the trees. Despite the lights, Erudite appears lifeless, a pale finger reaching to the sky like an accusation. It isn’t quite twenty past six. In a little over ten minutes, Jeanine will attempt to activate her programme and find that her army has been stolen out from under her. I wonder what she’ll think. Will she know immediately that the serum was tampered with, or will she think the programme is faulty? Will she suspect that Max turned traitor, and did not carry out the injections? How much time will we really have before she realises that her tower is breached, and that we are coming for her?

 

There are no guards visible; no attempt is made to stop us even as we jog over the open ground. Will and Eric spent painstaking hours telling us all that Erudite has only one main entrance, with no back ways or side doors – it’s meant to symbolise that there is only one path to true happiness, and that is the way of knowledge – or some such nonsense anyway. I don’t like it; it means we’re a very obvious presence immediately. I would have preferred to emulate my Capture the Flag antics, and sneak up on them somehow, but Erudite don’t hold with sneaking. They prefer openness. I wonder when that openness stopped being about the pursuit of knowledge, and started being about power.

 

I expect someone to stop us at any second, for someone to call out a challenge, but nothing comes. Nobody apparently sees us cross the grass, and there is nobody in the atrium when we get inside. W don’t even have to break in, just open the door and stroll in.

 

It’s only once we get all the way inside that I start to worry that something is very, very wrong. It’s completely silent, when surely this morning of all mornings, the whole place should be buzzing with life. Eric is frowning, but waves Christina and Will off into the immediate first floor. We’ve barely reached the second when they catch us up and confirm the whole first floor is empty.

 

It’s exactly the same on the others. Something isn’t right – every sense I have is screaming it at me. I touch Eric on the arm.

                “Stop, stop. This isn’t right. Wait.” Double doors lead off the stairs at each balcony. I go back to the third and try it. I rush back up. “Those doors have locked behind us,” I gasp. “They’re trapping us on the stairs, we have to go back –“

                “We can’t,” Will says, going white. “It’s the security override. The front doors will have locked behind us too. They’ve been watching us since we came in.”

                “Goddamn,” I curse. “Will, Eric, you were both Erudite, there’s got to be more than one way out of this place.”

                “There’ll be fire escapes on each floor,” Will says. “But they’re all alarmed and opening one will rouse half the fucking city.”

                “Not if we trip the wires,” Eric says. “The security for the basement is on a different system, one has to remain open, it can’t be circumvented. It was done as a security measure, so if one system was accidentally activated, there was always a way out to disengage it from the main panel outside. Will, you’re the only one who knows the way – take Christina and Al, OK?” Will nods. “Trip the damn wires, rip out every single wire you can find and cripple the whole building.” They leave at once, knowing this is no time to argue.

                “We’re coming with you,” Lynn says to Eric, even as he turns to them. “They obviously know we’re here. We stand a better chance of getting out of this as a group.”

 

We continue to the fifth floor, but we don’t make it. Alarms start going off, and Eric turns back.

                “Run,” he says, simply. “Run. Smash windows, shoot them out, do what you have to do and run.” People scatter. Tori and Zeke shoot out the doors to the fourth floor and take off, Bud and Uriah smash the third. Marlene follows them and Lynn repeats their action on the second floor, obviously deciding her best bet is to go it alone. Eric just takes my wrist and drags me down, back onto the ground floor. Blue-jacketed people are everywhere, but they are reluctant to approach, especially when I fire a few bullets off at random towards the floor. A sharp cry tells me that someone got hit, but I daren’t stop to find out who.

 

The confusion is insane, the world is going mad around me. Eric lifts his gun and people scatter, exposing a window in front of us. He starts firing, and the glass shatters into a thousand glittering shards. But Erudite is built on a slope and we’ve been turned around by the press of people in the entrance hall, so we’re facing a drop. It’s only about three feet, but still, the ground is now littered with glass shards. It’s only now that I notice that some of the Erudite people are armed, but I’d be prepared to bet that they can’t aim to save their lives. But sometimes a bad shot is more dangerous than a crack one – a bad shot can intend to shoot at people’s legs but in reality will hit the stomach or even lungs when the recoil is taken into account.

                “Beatrice! Stop!” That voice is probably the only one that could stop me now, and I skid to a halt, even as Eric tries to drag me away.

                “You!” Caleb is approaching, but Eric has turned now, raised his gun, pointing it at my brother’s heart. Caleb at least has the sense to stop, his hands held out in a pleading gesture.

                “Beatrice, stop,” he says. “You don’t know what you’re doing!”

                “I know exactly what I’m doing! How could you do this? This is our parents, Caleb!” He shakes his head.

                “Faction before blood, Beatrice –“

                “My name is Tris now!”

                “We have to go,” Eric snaps. “You, back away, or I swear to God I’ll shoot you in the fucking head and wouldn’t lose a second of sleep over it.”

                “In front of my sister –“

                “You lost the right to call me sister when you plotted with that bitch to murder our father and make our mother a widow without a home,” I snarl. I launch out of Eric’s reach before he can stop me, and I punch Caleb in the face with all my force. His head snaps back and red mist descends. Even after he’s on the ground I keep punching, only for Eric to seize me bodily around the waist and literallytoss me through the window. The pain as I land hands down on several hundred shards of glass restores me to some semblance of sanity, even as I curse and swear. Eric jumps out after me, dragging me to my feet. My hands slip on the weapon, unable to find a purchase under all the blood. Eric is dragging me now, even as I look back.

                “Stop them!” screams a female voice. Jeanine is framed in the empty window, staring out at us. Behind her, someone is helping Caleb to sit up, and I take a certain vicious pleasure at seeing the damage I did to his face, even as guilt floods me. No matter what he might have done, that is my brother and I loved him. Nobody seems exactly eager to run after us. Jeanine rounds on them in frustration but this time it’s Eric who stops.

                “Jeanine!” he bellows. “You want us; you come and have a go.” She’s obviously reluctant to do so. Despite the pain – I think I must have several shards of glass embedded into my palms; I grip the weapon I carry and raise it to shoulder, ready to fire if I have to. I might have used manual methods on Caleb, but I have no such hesitations for Jeanine. But out of the corner of my eye, I see a window beneath the first floor open. The basement. Will crawls out first, turning back to help Christina. Jeanine is too distracted by us, by Eric, and I intend to keep it that way.

                “You let yourself become distracted, Eric,” Jeanine says. Nobody is moving, the standoff is tense. The smell of the blood on my hands is making me feel sick and dizzy. Some is mine, some is Caleb’s. Several veins are probably torn.

                “She’s everything. She’s a lot more than a distraction.”

                “Eric, we have to go,” I say. “Come on.” He seems to see the sense in that, but Al is still only just out and still obvious.

 

Christina stumbles, she goes down with a cry and it’s obvious that her ankle is hurt. But it’s enough to distract Jeanine.

                “Shoot!” she screams. An Erudite raises their weapon; they take aim, even as Will and Al are hauling Christina to her feet and helping her.

                “No!” I shout, lunging towards the three of them, even though they’re too far away to reach.

 

But they’re close enough for me to see a bullet find a target. They’re close enough for me to see the blood spray from a vicious wound in Al’s face. They’re close enough to hear Christina’s scream.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me.
> 
> There's one chapter to come after this.


	50. Beyond the Fence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris and Eric flee the city, and are left with too many unanswered questions.

_SEPTEMBER 27 TH _ 

 

There’s nothing I can do, but I still turn to run to him. Will is dragging Christina away, but she can barely walk and they won’t get far. Eric grabs me by the arm and starts dragging me himself. Somewhere close by, there is a train whistle and I know his plan without him having to say a single word – to get on that train and flee.

                “We have to go back!” I cry, even as we get into the trees.

                “All we’ll do is get caught with them,” he says, continuing to drag me. “And I will not let her have you.”

                “But she’ll catch them!”

                “Yes, she will.”

                “You’re so cold!” I cry out, trying to resist him.

                “Tris please!” he shouts, turning to me even as he keeps pulling. “We can’t save them now. You knew the plan from the very start and you knew that if this happened, we split up.”

 

I knew it, of course. But knowing it and putting it into practice – well, aren’t they two different things? I didn’t know that that plan would see me abandon my best friends and run away from Al’s body as his blood stained the grass beneath him. I didn’t know that plan would be fleeing. The train is drawing level, and Eric throws me in.

 

I cry out as I land on my injured hands, and he kneels beside me at once when he joins me.

                “Let me see them,” he says quietly. I push onto my own knees and hold them out. “I didn’t mean for you to land like that.”

                “You threw me out a window.”

                “I’m sorry. I was just trying to get you away.” He presses and I swear. “And sorry for that too. They’re full of glass, but I haven’t got time to start digging them out now, and this carriage isn’t clean enough.”

                “Where are we going?”

                “End of the line.”            

                “To Amity? You’ve got a friend there?”

                “Not Amity. We ride the train to the end of the line,  outside the fence, then we hide near the tracks until dark. Then we run.”

                “Where too?”

                “The woods out past the farms.”

                “The woods?”

                “Yes, the woods. We can hide there for a night or two, until the heat’s off. I’d stick to contacting the Factionless but I daren’t now, and anyway this train is on the wrong tracks for it. We have to hope that the others manage it.”

                “We just left them.”

                “We had to,” he says, grabbing my face and forcing me to look at him. “Look at me! We had to, and they will know that.”

                “Before or after Jeanine tortures them?”

                “She won’t torture them, Tris, she’s not that kind of woman. But right now, we have to get out of this city. It’s pretty obvious someone has talked and they knew we were coming today, so it’s fairly safe to assume that they also know it was us who were the immediate planners. So we have to run. We have to leave the city because right now it is not safe for two of us, and I will not leave you.”

                “Eric –“

                “I love you,” he says, and the desperation in his voice cracks my heart in two. “I love you. Please don’t ask me to give you up, to let you walk into that place. Because I can’t do it, I can’t do that.”

                “I – I – Eric. I love you too, you know I do, but I love them as well.”

                “I know. I know, I know how much they mean to you, and I swear that we will get them out but barging in there with no plan and no options and no escape route – people will die.”       

                “Al’s already dead.”

                “Yes, he is. He’s already dead, and do you really think that he’d thank you for getting yourself killed as well? We will come back, and we will save them, but we cannot do it now and we cannot do it like this because it won’t work. Right now we have to get away and we have to plan.”

 

He’s right, but it doesn’t help to know he’s right. He’s right, but it’s still more than I can bear. He holds me in his arms as the train speeds through the city that is only just waking up. It’s only just gone seven.

 

How can it still be so early? It feels like this morning has lasted hours and yet it hasn’t even taken one. How can everything have been so fast and yet changed so much? How can this have gone so badly wrong, so fast?

 

We jump the train as he said, just before the end of the line. He leads the way deep into the trees – close enough to observe but well hidden by a raised hillock and the trees. He unpacks a first aid kit from his rucksack.

                “Do you want something to bite on?”

                “Why would I need something to bite on?”

                “For two reasons,” he says, opening the box. “The first is this bottle of disinfectant.”

                “You’re going to pour it over my hands, aren;t you?”

                “I am. You may recall you did the same to Molly once. The second reason is that I’m going to have to dig the glass shards out of your hands, one by one, and that is going to hurt like all holy fuck.”

                “Oh, what fun that will be.”

                “You can’t scream, Tris, OK? You can’t scream. Bite down on your jacket, OK?”

 

It burns like fire when he pours the disinfectant over them, and the prickles of awful, awful pain when he runs cotton over it all make my eyes water even as I bite my bottom lip so hard that blood fills my mouth and I have to spit.

                “Goddamn woman, don’t fucking add to this.” He brandishes the tweezers and looks at me. “If you are even remotely squeamish, look away now, because this is not the time or the place for you to faint.” So even though I’ve never considered myself squeamish, I don’t watch him pick the glass shards out of my palms. When he runs his fingers over my palms at intervals, it takes a while for me to stop wincing. “I think that’s all of them. One wipe over with the disinfectant, then you’re done.” It burns again, but not as badly as before. “Water, drink it,” he orders. He dresses my hands and I sit back.

                “Do I look as bad as I feel?” I ask.

                “Well, that depends. Do you feel like shit?” he returns.

                “You’re an ass.”

 

The day is long and cold and silent, as we hide in the woods beside the terminus, watching the trains come and go as Amity load them with fabric bolts and food, calling to each other in laughing voices.

                “Do you think they even know?” I ask Eric once. He shakes his head.

                “No, I don’t think so. They aren’t inside the city; they tend to get news later than the others. Once the first of the food trucks come back, they’ll know.” And he’s right too, because by noon the atmosphere has changed dramatically. They obviously know and they obviously find it a thoroughly interesting topic of conversation. However, it works in our favour because they manage to be so distracted by the gossip, that eventually a basket of food is left abandoned by the tracks during one of the changes. Eric ignores my protests, and dashes out to get it.

                “We’re in luck,” he says, when he brings it back to the woods and goes through it. “Bread, fruit, cheese, tins of meat, tins of vegetables.”

                “Luck my eye,” I snort, leaning over. “That was left on purpose.”

                “What?”

                “Amity baskets are organised by food type. They must have known we fled this way, perhaps they hoped we were nearby, so they left this in the hopes that we would take it.”

                “I thought Amity stayed away from most Faction disputes.”

                “They do. But they are kind.”

                “It’s nearly six,” he says. “There’s only a train an hour now. They’ll know we were here, because we took the basket. Let’s go. It’ll mean going the long way around, instead of over the fields, but we’ll have to.” We get up, and kick twigs and leaves over where we’ve sat and where he buried the glass shards and the bloodied cotton.

 

We walk for a long time, until Amity is far behind us and even the fence is out of sight. In the end, the best we could both do was not enough and it got Al killed. It got Christina and Will caught, and God knows where the others are, or if they’re safe. And as I watch Eric build a fire and I unpack the basket to put some kind of meal together, I know for certain that we can’t be forgiven for it, for running when they could not.  

 

And all I can think as we eat and watch the fire dance, is _who shouldn’t we have trusted?_ Because we got it wrong, and our friends have paid the price. And who can say that the price might be too high to pay, when it isn’t paid by us?

 

It’s over, and people have died, and what can we do now but run away?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it. The end of the story.
> 
> Until the sequel, anyway. I'm going to take a nice break from it, for a week so I'll be back next Thursday with the first few chapters of The Love We Bear. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for all the support from start to end of this story, which is my longest story to date! Hopefully I'll see you all on The Love We Bear next week :)


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